https://a.co/d/iCY7Yno
https://a.co/d/hzoMq1x
https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/91190/hyperspace-hunter-isekai-litrpg-deckbuilding-scifi
https://discord.gg/kp3Wt5CmmE
Chapter 14: Yesunta [Volume 4]
¡°What are the chances they have heard of your disgrace?¡± Myraden asked the Hand.
¡°High,¡± said the Hand. ¡°It¡¯s been many weeks since the Emperor stripped my titles from me.¡±
They walked down a broad thoroughfare in the center of Ostaloth. The street was wide enough to fit ten carriages and carts across, at least, and civilians made use of its every inch. Kythen walked in front of them, clearing a way through the crowd and lowering his horns whenever peddlers or potential thieves approached.
Clotheslines and old fishing nets hung over the street, supporting chains of lanterns, or, on street corners, entire chandeliers of candles who had dripped into an eldritch stalactite of wax. Building clung together by threads and rusty nails, and dried kelp shingles blew across the street in droves. Music rattled out of windstones, or was played live by buskers, and Smoke sculptures whirled in plazas like fountains.
Myraden cursed under her breath. She couldn¡¯t rely on the Hand¡¯s previous standing to get them into the council grounds.
It was called the Crown Ring, named for its old significance to Greatsaad and the capital. She¡¯d also learned¡ªin the few hours they¡¯d been here¡ªthat there was rarely any councilling happening. It was mostly a game of galas, evening dinner meetings, and large social gatherings for the old marshals and their retinue.
¡°Like I said,¡± the Hand muttered. ¡°I have a friend who can help get us prepared.¡±
¡°Apparently, you have many friends,¡± Myraden muttered. ¡°It is a shame they were no good to you in the realms of politics or war.¡±
¡°At least I have friends,¡± he replied, voice empty and cold.
¡°I have¡a friend.¡± Myraden glanced at Kythen, then thought of Pirin. ¡°Friends. Two.¡±
The Hand shook his head. ¡°If all you seek is a friend who can bring you value, then that¡¯s no friend at all.¡±
Myraden gulped. She rarely thought of Kythen as a tool, not anymore.
His words still stung, and she wanted to hurt him back. She glared at him and snapped, ¡°And what happened to these friends, hm, when they found out what you had become? Red Hand of the Emperor? I do not suppose you made them after you earned your vicious titles.¡±
¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I did not.¡±
It wasn¡¯t the satisfying response she¡¯d been hoping for.
¡°Turn here,¡± he said, motioning toward an alleyway.
She relayed the command to Kythen, and they both followed the Hand down an alleyway. It ran between a warehouse and a rudimentary bakery complex with apartments on its second and third storeys.
They followed the alleyway, dodging abandoned crates and barrels. A vagrant moaned and stumbled out of the shadows, but the Hand pressed his sheathed sword up against the man¡¯s chest and pushed him away.
They arrived at a door at the end of the alley. The Hand pushed a door open then disappeared through it. Myraden followed him inside, but Kythen was too large.
¡°Stay here,¡± she instructed him in ¨ªshkaben. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. Feel free to kick anyone who tries to take you away.¡±
Don¡¯t be long, Kythen said. This city gives me a sickening feeling, like I¡¯ve just rolled in spring mud. The alley doesn¡¯t help.
Myraden followed the Hand inside and let the door fall shut behind her. She stood at the bottom of a stairway, and she ran up it to the very top, where the Hand waited at a landing. He knocked on a dingy apartment¡¯s door and called, ¡°Yesunta?¡±
The door creaked open a crack, revealing a middle-aged woman¡¯s weathered cheeks and tired eyes. Like many of the native Greatsaadans, she had broad cheekbones and round cheeks, and a pale bronze skin tone. She pulled the door open farther, revealing a simple but pristine apron and a green rag tied around her hair.
¡°Kovar?¡± she whispered. ¡°Is¡that you?¡±
The Hand nodded. ¡°It is. It has¡been a while, Yesunta.¡±
¡°Indeed, aye.¡± She cleared her throat and backed away. ¡°You have a¡friend? She is with you, right?¡±
Yesunta stared directly at Myraden.
¡°I am with him.¡± Myraden crossed her arms. ¡°He said you two were friends.¡±
Normally, Myraden didn¡¯t scan the spirits of everyone she stumbled across, but a faint pressure bubbled off this woman, pressing gently against Myraden¡¯s core.
She stared intently at the woman and extended her senses, then looked inside and weighed the woman¡¯s core against her own. Yesunta was a Flare¡ªjust past the middle of the stage. She had no markings of an enhanced body, though. Not as strong as she could¡¯ve been, but not a pushover, either. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
¡°Old friends, maybe,¡± the woman grumbled. She stared directly at Myraden, as if to say ¡®I felt that¡¯¡ªone often did feel their spirit being scanned. ¡°Friends send letters from time to time, and don¡¯t leave each other out to dry for a decade or two.¡±
The Hand snorted. ¡°If I recall, you still owe me a favour. You even insisted on making it a soul pact, as part of your honour.¡±
¡°That was a long time ago¡¡± Yesunta muttered. ¡°I was much younger.¡±
¡°Friends, hm?¡± Myraden shook her head. ¡°Miss, the Hand¡ªor, Kovar¡ªhe needs your help. We both do. I am not exactly sure what he thinks you can help us with, but if you would let us in, he can explain.¡±
Yesunta sighed, then backed away from the door. ¡°Alright, you two. Come in. But don¡¯t get too comfortable, aye? It¡¯s late, and I¡¯ve got a busy day tomorrow.¡±
Myraden and the Hand stepped into a small, windowless apartment. A hearth blazed on the opposite side of the room, but otherwise, bookshelves covered every inch of the wall. Reams of colourful fabric, spools of golden string, and rune-marked wooden tablets made them bow in the middle. On the very top shelves were jars of flame-aspect Essence manifested into pellets and stored like candy. Aside from the hearth, they provided the only light for the room, and their pale orange glow was barely enough to reach the ceiling.
Yesunta ran to a table at the center of the room and swept off a layer of fabric snippings and a coiled-up Smoke cloth, which landed on the head of a peacock.
A peacock. Her Familiar. It squawked, then fanned out its tail feathers and hopped away from the edge of the table, then nattered and clicked its beak.
¡°Apologies,¡± Yesunta muttered. ¡°Didn¡¯t see you, aye?¡±
¡°She is a Smoke-maker,¡± Myraden said. She glanced skeptically at the Hand. ¡°How will she get us into the Crown Ring?¡±
¡°She¡¯ll make us presentable,¡± said the Hand. ¡°Yesunta is a master of aesthetics, and that extends beyond crafting trinkets.¡±
¡°Wasn¡¯t much good as a Smoke-maker, anyways,¡± said Yesunta. ¡°Or, wasn¡¯t much good at selling them. Making coats and dresses pays the bills.¡± She picked up a crochet hook off the ground and pointed it at the Hand. ¡°He helped me get into the Greatsaad Arts Academy, but I flunked out after a few years. But a deal¡¯s a deal, aye, and my word still means something?¡±
¡°If you help us,¡± said the Hand.
¡°I don¡¯t have time to make anything from scratch.¡± Yesunta kicked an empty spool of string under a chair and looked up, as if pretending to have not noticed. ¡°But we can investigate my closet.¡±
She turned around, facing a hallway that led off along the side of the apartment, but stopped halfway and turned back to face them. ¡°By the Eane, you two smell vile, and you look like you¡¯ve been on the road for weeks.¡± She reached into her pocket and felt around for a few seconds, before producing a rusty key. ¡°This complex isn¡¯t much, but there¡¯s a small bathhouse on the bottom floor. Seawater, and it¡¯s lukewarm at best, but it''s fresh. Clean yourselves up, and I¡¯ll find something in my collection.¡±
She tossed the key to the Hand, and he snatched it out of the air. ¡°Thank you, Yesunta.¡±
¡°Yeah, yeah. Least I can do, if I¡¯m giving you the reject fashion.¡±
Myraden wrung her hair out in a towel, then scrambled back into her clothes. There were only two other women in the apartment¡¯s dingy bathhouse, and they were elderly and slow. Chances are, they weren¡¯t even looking, and if they did, the room was dark. No windows, salty steam clouding the air.
Besides, there was little to hide anymore. No more reckless scars, no weeping cuts that she¡¯d been too lazy to cauterize. The glowing gold Blaze-stage markings and silky enhancement residues below should¡¯ve been a stamp of honour.
Old habits died hard.
As she dried off, she tied up her hair with a leather band, then rammed her feet back into her boots and walked through the building¡¯s hallways, navigating back to Yesunta¡¯s apartment. It wasn¡¯t cold, but without her armour of Kythen, she felt oddly vulnerable. Like someone would leap out from the shadows and slit her throat without her sensing it.
The Hand had already returned to the apartment. His hair had grown longer than usual, and he tied it up into a ponytail as well, but he¡¯d shaved his beard¡ªleaving only a small mustache.
¡°Guests of honour wouldn¡¯t arrive at the Autumn Council in their best garb, so I¡¯ve prepared travelling overcoats for you,¡± Yesunta said, motioning to the table. Two matching gray coats rested on the table, with brass buttons running down their front and gold embroidery on the lapels and collars. ¡°Wear these when you arrive, aye? They¡¯re clean and high-status, but they won¡¯t look too unusual.¡±
Myraden nodded slowly.
¡°And beside them, a marshal¡¯s doublet. Commissioned for the Eastern Earl Marshal, but he never picked it up, and truly, I rushed it a little¡but that¡¯s no matter. If no one looks too closely, they won¡¯t notice. I doubt the public saw it, anyway¡¡±
Myraden¡¯s gaze drifted over to the black doublet. It had a Dominion crest¡ªtwo ostal horns in an open circle made of chains¡ªand light gray embroidery in distinct lines down its front. Its shoulders jutted out straight to the sides, and toggle buttons ran up its front.
¡°And,¡± Yesunta drifted to the side once more, drawing Myraden¡¯s attention to a folded brown dress. ¡°One of a set I made for Lord Four¡¯s wizard maidservants. Still elegant, gala attire, but the muted colours are befitting of a servant. On request, I designed the cutouts to highlight the wizards¡¯ reforging markings, though it should have the same effect with your runemarks. To show their family¡¯s immense wealth and power.¡±
Myraden reached out and squished the silky brown fabric between her fingers. She lifted it up, and along with it trailed a mesh of smoke. It had its own spiritual weight, like that of a Smoke tablet, but the gray ash was alive and swirling.
¡°I made its base of manifested Essence, and it should hold its smoke tight. It¡¯s not using it, aye?¡± She flicked it, and a wisp of smoke abandoned a strand of deep red manifested Essence¡ªweak flame Essence. The smoke fluttered back, swirling around the strand and hiding it once more.
Myraden nodded in thanks.
Truly, even if she repurposed it afterward, the resources used to make the dress were worth something.
¡°Thank you, Yesunta,¡± said the Hand, then dipped his head as well. ¡°Now, if you don¡¯t mind, we¡¯ll be off.¡±
Myraden grinned. They had a general to sway.
Chapter 15: City Captured [Volume 4]
The three wizards attacked. They each unleashed a blast of wind from the palm of their hands, like the Winged Fist but more concentrated. Pirin sprang back. The blasts of wind scoured the stone, eroding tiny craters in it where each blast hit.
As he retreated, he analyzed his foes. They were all Flares, all with enhanced bodies. Only one had visible enhancement markings¡ªthe veins across his face were mud-brown, like he¡¯d pressed a fishing net across his skin.
All used birds as their Familiars, but they were tiny steppehawks. They manipulated the wind to carry themselves up over the ramparts of the flak castle, then dropped down into a crouch.
They thought that together, they could overwhelm Pirin?
Let¡¯s show them how wrong they are, Gray said.
¡°Don¡¯t get cocky,¡± Pirin whispered.
I think we¡¯ve earned a little cockiness.
Pirin rolled his eyes, but he didn¡¯t deny the sentiment. These wizards were overconfident, and he¡¯d use that to his advantage. ¡°Distract their Familiars, and I¡¯ll deal with their masters.¡±
My pleasure! Gray exclaimed. With a flap of her wings, she took off, and all four wizards manipulated the air, preventing the downdraft from sweeping them off their feet. Come, little birdies! Let me show you how superior I truly am!
Gray swooped over the wizards¡¯ heads, slashing at them with her talons. The wizards whispered to their Familiars, and sent the little hawks chasing after her.
The lead wizard, the ostal with the enhancement markings, launched a stream of condensed wind at the central ballista turret of the platform. It would¡¯ve hit if Pirin hadn¡¯t pulled off his mask and launched a Shattered Palm forward, disrupting and overwhelming the technique. It blasted into the wizard and flung him back through the crenellations at the edge of the tower. The stone shattered and he fell, but caught himself with a bed of air.
While the strongest wizard recovered, Pirin lunged forward, activating the Fracturenet. He caught up to the nearest wizard with a few steps. The ostal flung another blast of air at Pirin, but Pirin leaned back. Then, calling upon his Reign, he sharpened the stub of his sword and rammed it into the wizard¡¯s chest. He fell limp.
The second wizard activated a pseudo-fortification technique, like Pirin had learned with his own wind techniques, but more rigid and defensive. It wanted to push him away and repel his weapons. Failing that, it wanted to erode whatever touched it.
A destructive aura? He could deal with that.
He pulled his mask back onto his face and manifested gnatsnapper Essence along the stub of his blade. It filled the fuller, buffing out the cracks and scars, and made the blade glow with a faint greenish brown light.
He slashed through the aura in one direction, and in the other, he exerted his authority over wind, pulling it away and weakening the fortification technique. With each of his own swipes, he manipulated the air to remove resistance to his arm and push from behind.
The stub of his sword flashed in one direction, cutting across her wrist, then back the other way, batting aside her sword.
Then, one final cut across her neck. She fell back, then dropped, writhing and gurgling. Then, abruptly, she fell limp.
Gray killed the wizard¡¯s hawk in an instant with a swipe of her talons, and the tiny bird¡¯s corpse plummeted from high in the sky.
The last wizard lifted himself up to the castle roof again. It had only been seconds, but his company was gone. His eyes widened, but he gave a furious shout and charged. The air around his fists blurred, and he unleashed a flurry of powerful blows. Echoes of his hands pummelled Pirin from all directions. The more he punched, the more arcane fists of wind he created. Feathers of unintentionally manifested Essence filled them, giving the technique volume and weight.
A fist struck him in the chest, and it sent him skidding back across the ramparts. His heels brushed the rotating ballista turret mount.
Lucky, perhaps, but he wasn¡¯t taking any chances. He activated his Reyad, slid his mask onto his face, then launched one more Shattered Palm. It chewed through the fists in an instant and impacted the wizard in the chest. He must¡¯ve been ready for it, because it didn¡¯t fling him off the tower.
Only knocked him onto his back.
Pirin leapt forward and reversed his grip on the stub of his sword, then drove it down into the man¡¯s chest. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The wizard fell limp, and at the same moment, his Familiar spiralled out of the sky.
Pirin jumped back to his feet. Above, the rest of the Sirdian bombing squadron was approaching the wall, and if he didn¡¯t clear the way for them, the flak castles would blast them out of the sky.
Working with Gray, he turned the flak castle¡¯s main ballista turret in a circle. It swung around, aiming at the other towers and destroying them. One bolt, sometimes two, was enough to disable most of the castles¡¯ weapons.
There were other castles in other quadrants of the city, but they were out of this turret¡¯s range, and likewise, couldn¡¯t hit the Sirdian squadrons even if they tried.
When Pirin destroyed the last tower, he climbed back up into Gray¡¯s saddle and urged her to take off. She fluttered up into the sky, giving Pirin an overview of the battle.
The Sirdian gnatsnappers dove along the outer curtain wall, dropping payload after payload and destroying the larger artillery pieces with precise explosives. Pirin was tempted to help, but by the time they would arrive, the Sirdians would have cleaned up the majority of the resistance.
Instead, Pirin guided Gray over the wall and back to the Sirdian army¡¯s landing point. The barges wedged their shallow prows up against the gravel shore of a bend in the river. Weavelings and Sirdian elves jumped off the barges and landed in the gravel, then sprinted up the shore and made a formation on the fields beyond.
Elves and weavelings alternated clusters, and eventually, formed up into neat battalions. Cohesive, but still alternating, with both sharing the front line.
Soldiers offloaded siege ladders and smaller, more mobile ballistae, but there wasn¡¯t time to muster their full strength yet. Their speed and surprise¡ªfor what little they had¡ªwas their greatest asset.
Pirin activated his windstone headset again and spoke to the squadron. ¡°Apologies for the delay. The flak castles should be out of commission. Keep your eyes out for enemy birds. They could be approaching from any angle.¡±
Vel Aerdeil had no airfields directly within the wall. The city was too crowded for birds to take off properly. But the fields around the city, or nearby airbases, could launch squadron after squadron. They¡¯d have more than enough to take down the vulnerable bombing squadron.
¡°I see something to the south,¡± said a Sirdian pilot.
¡°Form up into tight groups,¡± Pirin said. ¡°Protect each other as best you can, and give the ground forces cover. We¡¯ve cleared the wall, and once they take it, the city will be as good as ours.¡±
Pirin, however, didn¡¯t join a group. He urged Gray to fly straight south¡ªat a small cluster of airborne shapes. Fifty, maybe sixty Aerdian gnatsnappers flew toward them.
Remorsefully, Pirin shut his eyes. Not even enough enemy birds in the first wave to make a dent. They wouldn¡¯t stand a chance, and they knew it.
Aerdia must have been suffering more than he¡¯d previously thought.
Or the Dominion commanders just don¡¯t care about their lives, Gray commented.
¡°Reading my mind?¡± Pirin whispered. ¡°And what was that? A sliver of compassion from the dragon¡¯s mind?¡±
Hah! No! It was¡it was simply acknowledging a possible reality!
¡°Well, I¡¯m going to deal with it before they get hurt. How much Essence to you estimate we have left?¡±
You¡¯ve been chewing through your pure Essence a lot faster than the gnatsnapper Essence. Your gnatsnapper Essence is about half full, and your pure Essence about a quarter full.
¡°I¡¯ll make more when we land. Until then¡¡±
He and Gray swung around and fluttered toward the Aerdian cluster. They formed up into tight squadrons, a battle-ready formation, but they had to know what they were up against. He launched a Shattered Palm into the air from a distance as a warning.
¡°Turn away!¡± he yelled, enhancing his voice and projecting it farther than a regular elf could. ¡°You know who I am!¡± Hopefully, they¡¯d heard stories about the battle at the delta gates by now, and what he had done to the enemy squadrons. ¡°If you turn away, I will not harm you. Land in the forests and hide from your Dominion overlords, and when we secure the city, approach and enter!¡±
At first, none of the birds flinched. Had he projected his voice loud enough? Or had he simply misunderstood the Aerdians¡¯ desires and reasoning.
But then one bird in the enemy squadron spread its wings wide and turned, then circled back. There were no forests directly below to land in, but if they turned away and flew back a few miles, they could land in a thin woodland, and they¡¯d be safe.
After the first rider turned, most of the others followed, spinning their mounts around and retreating. Officers, lower pilots, they fled from certain death.
Only a few of the most extreme kept flying, kept charging. Pirin switched to his gnatsnapper Essence and blasted them out of the sky, or tossed them around and flung them off their birds saddles from a distance. He couldn¡¯t reliably destroy more than one at a time with wind¡ªyet¡ªbut he shifted his targets around the five or six pilots who were crazy enough to keep charging.
Concentrated bars of wind knocked them off their saddles. He manipulated the currents of wind to jostle the birds and knock them to the ground or send them spiralling out of control.
When the rest of the riders had turned away, he kept looking for more, but so far, none had come, and he and Gray had drifted far from the fighting. He leaned closer to the saddle and urged her to turn back.
They passed back over the outer wall, in time to observe the siege. Silver-armoured Dominion soldiers armed the wall, launching arrows down into the forces below or defending at close range from the elves who scaled the wall. Siege ladders pressed up against the wall closest to the western gatehouse, and the Sirdians had already taken the gate. The pushed outward like ink diffusing through water, clearing out the rest of the wall. The Dominion garrison, outnumbered, and with all their heavy artillery destroyed, put up a half-hearted defence. Any Aerdians among them had already retreated.
Then, the gatehouse¡¯s portcullis climbed open. Sirdian soldiers operated it, allowing the rest of their army to stream in unopposed.
They¡¯d done it. The city was theirs.
Chapter 16: The Crown Ring [Volume 4]
Myraden and the Hand approached the gate of the Crown Ring wall, shrouded in their simple but aristocratic overcoats. It was a straight approach, and in this part of the city¡ªmuch closer to the administrative districts¡ªthe streets were clean. Busy and crowded, but Dominion soldiers hauled away any vagrants and lined every corner.
¡°How long will we have to wait in the city?¡± Myraden asked. ¡°When does the council start?¡±
¡°It should have already begun,¡± said the Hand. ¡°Now, no more questions until we are inside the wall. You are my servant, and you must act like it.¡±
Myraden rankled at the prospect. The hairs stood up along her arms, and an old rebelliousness burned in her gut, begging her to lash out at the prospect. She wasn¡¯t a servant, and she never would be.
Especially not of the Hand.
But¡she¡¯d have to accept certain things if she wanted to succeed. She could put on a performance for a few days.
Kythen trotted along behind her, but when the thought rolled through her mind, a wave of approval rolled across from Kythen.
He¡wanted her to be submissive?
No, I wanted you to accept the greater good, Kythen clarified. To put aside your impulses, to allow yourself to strive for something more. To shove aside your pride for the greater good.
She nodded. This would be the greater good, but she had to be a little selfish while she was here. Without finding a few elixirs and consuming them in a burst, she wouldn¡¯t illuminate her Inner Gates.
Without personal strength, she couldn¡¯t serve the greater good, either.
Balance, then, Kythen said. You must find it.
¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± she whispered to him in ¨ªshkaben. ¡°I¡¯m looking.¡±
Myraden and the Hand stopped just in front of the Crown Ring wall gate. Up close, it was much taller than she was expecting. Nearly six storeys, maybe seven. Two statues of ancient Greatsaadan explorers stood on either side of the gate. Their pedestals and legs were scorched from the flames of conquest¡ªfrom many years ago¡ªand green Dominion sashes ran from their shoulders to their hips.
¡°Like a dog pissing in the corner to mark its territory,¡± mumbled the Hand.
Myraden grimaced and raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing more. She had to play her part.
Dominion guards stood beneath the raised portcullis of the gate. There were three of them on each side, plus a single Flare-stage wizard with a lynx Familiar perching on his shoulder. Myraden held her breath and nearly veiled her core, but stopped. Up close, this Flare would see that she was a wizard¡ªand she was playing the part of a subservient wizard, anyway.
¡°Greetings, esteemed guests,¡± said a low-marshal¡ªidentified by his vibrant green pauldron. He pushed away from the wall and stepped into the center of the road. ¡°May I request your names?¡±
The Hand puffed his chest and pulled his hands out of his coat pockets. Myraden¡¯s heart skipped a beat. She was so used to seeing him with his distinct crimson glove, and feared he¡¯d just given them away.
But instead, he¡¯d donned a pair of perfectly white gloves befitting of his formal attire. The other was probably among his other effects, safely tucked into Myraden¡¯s pack¡ªwhich Kythen now carried.
The Red Hand laid one hand on his chest and placed the other on the hilt of his sword. ¡°Regional Marshal Naryne Draseik of the Seissen Barema Province.¡± He bowed deeply, then motioned to Myraden. ¡°My servant and guard, whose name is not of concern. She is a lowborn wizard-servant in my family¡¯s command. You have my sincerest apologies for being late to the Council.¡±
¡°You have no guards with you?¡±
¡°My servant is stronger than any company of non-wizards.¡±
The low-marshal looked them up and down, examining their garb, then glanced at the nearby Flare. The wizard nodded, and the low-marshal stepped aside. ¡°Please, follow Mr. Ulrith. He will lead you to the guest chambers. I¡¯m afraid all the opening festivities have concluded for the evening.¡±
An ostal soldier stepped away from the edge of the gate and bowed, then beckoned for them to follow. This must have been Mr. Ulrith.
They passed through the gate and walked along a cobblestone street within the ringed administration district. On the left side was the palace complex, with its sprawling gardens, hedge mazes, and of course, the building itself. It was a mess of tacked-on rectangles and shingled roofs, with marble pilasters on every wall and single-pane windows at even intervals. Its roof still had dried kelp thatching, like the other buildings of the cities, but with a brass trim and fish tails on the corners and joints. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
On the other side, built in a similar style, were smaller buildings, each upon their own pedestal or tiered level of ground¡ªraised slightly above the promenade.
Myraden would¡¯ve said they were approaching a set of barracks if it hadn¡¯t been for the statues of historical statesmen out front, broad windows, and golden trim on the walls. Too luxurious to be military barracks, but still large enough.
The soldier led them up to the building¡¯s front door, then consulted with a pair of guards at the open doors. They both wore ceremonial white cloaks, but otherwise appeared the same as other Dominion soldiers. Both guards spoke softly to each other, until finally, Mr. Ulrith turned back toward Myraden and the Hand and said, ¡°I will not enter this honoured guest hall, but chamber fifteen on the second floor is open and available to guests. Please be quiet at this hour.¡±
Myraden glanced up at the sky. By now, the moons hovered directly overhead, beaming down magenta light. Her breath condensed in the air, though she couldn¡¯t feel the cold on her skin.
She, then Hand, and Kythen entered the guest chambers. Inside, wooden panels covered the walls, and chandeliers spilled candlelight through broad, high-ceilinged halls.
They approached a deserted central stairway and climbed up to the second level, then followed the labels on the walls until they reached their assigned room. It was a standard apartment. A central living room, a master bedroom, two smaller rooms with stacked bunks for servants, and a washroom. A hearth blazed on the opposite wall, and sterile, clean furniture filled the corners.
Myraden and Kythen walked up to the window. She ran her fingers down the single, uniform sheet and muttered, ¡°The skill of Greatsaadan glassmakers was not a myth, then.¡± It afforded them a perfectly clear view of the entire administration district.
¡°We must rest,¡± said the Hand. He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket, then cautiously approached Kythen and retrieved his belongings from Myraden¡¯s pack. ¡°It will be a busy day tomorrow.¡±
Her eyes locked onto his right hand, which had almost always been covered by a glove. The skin below was bubbly, scarred white, and pale. The initial injury had long since healed, but she still recoiled at the sight of the bubbles and boils, the blistered scars and pockmarks. The glove wasn¡¯t just symbolic.
Myraden nodded. ¡°If we can locate The?mir immediately, then we can make a quick escape¡ªas quick as we can.¡±
¡°The elixirs?¡± asked the Hand.
¡°Do you think there will be many wizards in attendance?¡±
¡°A few, I¡¯d imagine. Upstarts who are growing more and more powerful, and who need to be put in their place by their superiors. Being sent here is the first warning they¡¯ll receive, though I doubt many will heed it.¡±
Myraden glanced at Kythen. ¡°I have an idea of where I might find elixirs, then.¡±
The Hand folded his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.
Pirin and Gray landed on Vel Aerdeil¡¯s main street. Behind them, Sirdian soldiers and weavelings formed a walland marched down the center of the street. In the chaos, they¡¯d mingled. Sirdians witnessed firsthand the discipline and strength of the weavelings, and weavelings witnessed the loyalty and drive of the Sirdians.
Or at least, that¡¯s what Pirin hoped had happened. No one was squabbling.
Civilians had fled from the streets. Silhouettes watched from the windows of the street-facing buildings or from behind lattice railings of their balconies. No one cheered, no one fled in terror¡ªyet.
Pirin had ordered the marshals to deliver strict orders to the soldiers: there would be no marauding, no looting, no torture of the city. They were liberators, not conquerors. He just had to show the civilians that.
Behind them, the fighting on the wall continued. The assailants wiped out the remains of the defences and took up positions across the walls. Still, a last battalion of Aerdians and Dominion soldiers stood in front of them, taking up defensive positions in the street. Heavily outnumbered, without proper defensive positions.
They knew it.
Pirin tightened his legs on Gray¡¯s sides, urging her to hop toward the last cluster of defenders. The Sirdians and weavlings approached from behind, moving slowly and methodically, but Pirin still had time.
¡°Lay down your weapons!¡± Pirin shouted. ¡°Surrender, let us take the city, and we will spare your lives.¡±
He charged a Shattered Palm with the last dregs of his pure-aspect Essence, and just in time¡ªa trio of Dominion soldiers charged, shouting incoherently. Something about Pirin being the king, being a prime target for their attack.
He unleashed his Shattered Palm. The impact broke one soldier¡¯s armour and caved it in, killing him instantly. The others, farther behind, only fell to the ground, unconscious.
After this, there would be pockets of resistance to quell, yes, but they¡¯d finished the hardest job.
Or, it was supposed to be. But now he had to make a speech and project confidence. ¡°I am Pirin!¡± he shouted. ¡°Lord of the elves, King Across the Sea. In time, I will claim the throne. If you wish to run, the eastern gate is open. If you wish to join me, throw down your weapons. This is your last chance.¡±
Dominion soldiers scrambled backwards, pushing through the crowd and crumbling the army, much to the displeasure of their low-marshals. The Aerdians threw down their swords and spears and darted away from the army¡ªlikely fearing retribution from their peers.
The defenders crumbled faster and faster, until finally, there were none left to oppose Pirin¡¯s advance.
He grinned, then turned to face the Sirdians and weavlings behind him. ¡°Victory!¡± he shouted. ¡°The city is ours!¡±
But a pit still welled up in his stomach. The city had fallen easily¡ªalmost too easily. This was supposed to be the last battle, but the true test still lay ahead.
Chapter 17: The Summer Palace [Volume 4]
After a full day of touring the city, flying around, scouting, and hunting out pockets of resistance in Vel Aerdeil, Pirin and Gray were exhausted. The city had been eerily quiet, with all the civilians cowering indoors. Even the vagrants hid in alleys and stayed out of trouble.
They cleared out the rest of the flak castles and secured hold over the entire wall, but left the eastern gate open and undefended. If anyone wanted to flee, Pirin wouldn¡¯t stop them¡ªand it¡¯d make their entire job easier.
Now, as the sun set behind the western wall, Pirin approached the Summer Palace.
Located at the very center of the city, in the middle of a broad plaza, the Summer Palace looked more like a cathedral than a seat of power. Its walls were made of the same pale limestone as the city¡¯s outer walls, but it had massive arched windows, flying buttresses, towers, and domed rooms all along its overall rectangular shape.
The Sirdian army had already cleared out the palace. They¡¯d broken down the front gate with a ram, which made Pirin wince¡ªthe doors had to be centuries old, and the wood had ornate carved frescoes all across it, but some minor Aerdian aristocrat had ordered it to be barred.
Pirin stepped into the vestibule, walking side-by-side with Gray. The passed a cluster of guards, and stepped aside to avoid a group of soldiers leading white-robed politicians¡ªmostly Ostal¡ªout of the building.
The vestibule broadened into a massive hall with a ten-storey tall ceiling. Pillars lined the edges, but otherwise, there were no supports. Orange Aerdian banners hung at the edges, obscuring the windows and blocking sunlight, and braziers blazed all along the floor.
Pirin stepped over the body of a Dominion soldier and avoided a pile of rubble, but otherwise, the interior of the hall was intact. Paintings covered the ceiling, depicting ancient elven lords fighting crimson fiends or annihilating armies with their abilities, and thought time had weathered them, the fighting hadn¡¯t touched them.
A carpet ran along the center, and Pirin followed it a hundred paces before climbing a half flight of stairs to the dais.
The dais supported a throne. Or, more appropriately, the throne grew through it. Twigs and branches rose up through cracks in the dais, forming a regular-sized chair with a two-storey tall plume of dried twigs and branches behind it like a peacock¡¯s tail. Dark brown leaves hung limply off the branches, and as Pirin watched, a dried branch crumbled down from the top. It tumbled a few levels before lodging in the armrest.
Veins of spiritual energy flowed through the branches. Pirin sensed a faint weight, though not nearly as much as he felt in the presence of other important objects. The channels themselves had power, and residues of extremely pure Essence flowed through them, but very little Essence lingered. Not enough to sustain the arcane tree¡¯s life.
At its base, it was the height of a normal seat, with a simple cushion on its base. Dust covered the green velvet, along with a layer of dead leaves and twigs.
Pirin brushed the seat off, but he didn¡¯t dare to sit down yet. He turned around and surveyed the hall. Gray stood down below the dais, along with Chancellor Ivescent and a few elven guards.
¡°Chancellor,¡± Pirin said. ¡°Good evening.¡±
¡°I take it your efforts were successful,¡± said the chancellor.
¡°Marshal Velbor thinks so,¡± Pirin said. ¡°But we haven¡¯t found any Blazes yet, nor the high-marshal of the garrison. There¡¯s still a potential for trouble.¡±
¡°It is possible they left the city,¡± said Ivescent. ¡°They retreated for better prospects. Don¡¯t let them haunt your dreams.¡±
¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡± Pirin stepped to the front of the dais, then plucked up a thick branch from the floor. Its bark crumbled in his fingers, but the pale white core remained, hard as bone and smooth. He held it up. It was dry and almost weightless. ¡°Chancellor, who was the governor-king of Aerdia?¡±
Chancellor Ivescent scoffed. ¡°King Tarliom of Aerdia. He was a cousin of Mransil III, and he used his standing to secure power after Mransil¡¯s death. He had very little power of his own, and he hadn¡¯t inherited any of the royal family¡¯s bloodline abilities, but with the old king dead, he was the country¡¯s only perceived future. But powerful Dominion guilds had backed his ascent, and they expected something in return. Slowly but surely, he sold out his nation to imperial interests.¡±
Pirin rolled his lips inward. That was probably something he should¡¯ve known, and likely had at one point.
¡°Eventually, he took the title governor-king,¡± said Ivescent. ¡°The Dominion urged him to probe the Dremfell Wall and test our defenses, and he did without question. In his pride, he led a party to the wall himself, and in the fighting, he died.¡±
¡°How long ago was that?¡± Pirin asked. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°About two years ago.¡± Ivescent folded his hands in front of him and let his sleeves merge together. ¡°The Dominion tried to cover it up, claiming he was still alive, but they couldn¡¯t maintain the myth forever. They still try¡¡±
¡°But I reckon almost everyone knows,¡± Nomad said, cutting in. He marched down the center of the hall, approaching Pirin and the throne. ¡°Or they¡¯ve guessed. They aren¡¯t as irrational as the Dominion¡¯s aristocrats and lords would have you believe.¡±
Pirin walked back to the throne. ¡°Gray¡do you remember the battle at Dremfell?¡±
Me? She lifted a wing out to the side, then curled its tip inward as if to point at herself. I remember startlingly little from before I absorbed a core. Not much to remember from a bird¡¯s brain. Even if we were there, which I suppose is likely, I can¡¯t remember it.
Pirin grimaced. Not all birds were as intelligent as crows or hawks, and not all animals were as long-lived and mentally developed as bloodhorns. But where gnatsnappers fell behind in wits, they made up for in loyalty.
But still, he wanted answers. There was no reason to think he¡¯d been at the first skirmishes at Dremfell, save for a vague feeling, and he wanted to test the truth of the matter. He shut his eyes.
Calling on the Memory Chain, he sifted through memories of the past kings¡ªand of himself. He didn¡¯t have a feeling to imbue his Essence with, a feeling to locate their memories properly with. But Ivescent gave him the rough time period, and Pirin had fine enough control of his Essence to push the Chain back exactly two years.
He first caught glimpses of flying over the mountains, crossing the Vlarioch range longitudinally, racing aboard Gray toward some skirmish.
So¡after he¡¯d crossed from Kerstel to Sirdia, and after he¡¯d met Gray for the first time.
They flew fast and hard, and in an extreme hurry. Pirin pushed forward a few days, and now, envisioned a broad mountain pass. It was a valley with sloped sides and a river at its base, with a layer of pine trees covering the ground so thick they looked like moss, with vast plains of rocks and pebbles where older incarnations of the river had flooded through.
An ancient wall protected the pass. It wasn¡¯t especially tall, and any of its once ornate ornaments had weathered and rubbed away over the centuries. Entire sections had crumbled, and rudimentary cobblestones replaced the gaps between the massive, ancient bricks. Leaning towers had wooden struts holding them up, and modern additions sprouted up above the wall¡ªemplacements for trebuchets and archers and catapults.
Blue flags fluttered from the wall, hung over the gate, and swayed on standards all throughout the small city behind the wall. It was Sirdian.
That had to be the Dremfell Wall.
Pirin slipped the Chain forward a few hours, and suddenly, he and Gray were duelling with birds mid-air. Other Aerdian gnatsnappers, and a few Dominion rockwings. A small army marched on the wall below, but it wasn¡¯t as large as Pirin had been fearing.
The wall beat it back with ease. Pirin didn¡¯t need to watch the memories minute by minute; he briefly scrolled through them, refreshing himself on his actions. He¡¯d landed and joined the fighting on the ground. A horn had blown.
That had been the first moment where he¡¯d truly revealed himself to a large group of spectators, and when he¡¯d truly revealed himself to Sirdia¡ªthat he would eventually rule in place of a chancellor, that the wizard-kings of Khirdia would return.
He cut off the Memory Chain and dragged himself back to the present, then faced Ivescent. ¡°What are the chances the Wall just¡holds? Again?¡±
¡°There are some who believe that to be the case,¡± said Ivescent. ¡°But it¡¯s wishful thinking. The Dominion is done probing our defenses. Lady Neria¡¯s army is an invasion force, and she will destroy the wall. If not by sheer numbers, then with the strength of her wizards.¡±
¡°They haven¡¯t attacked it with wizards before, have they?¡±
¡°Unless you count Tarliom, no.¡±
¡°How powerful was he?¡±
¡°A Flare at best. He barely enhanced his body.¡±
¡°He had no drive,¡± Nomad muttered. ¡°He had everything he desired once he stabbed his cousin in the back and split this land, and there was no need to keep advancing.¡±
Pirin tilted his head. ¡°So¡ª¡±
Before he could finish, a deep rumble shook the hall and sent vibrations through the floor. The soldiers near the hall¡¯s entrance stumbled, and Ivescent fell to his knees.
¡°What was that?¡± Pirin asked.
¡°Explosion.¡± Nomad marched off down the center of the hall, and Pirin and Gray raced after him.
¡°Explosion?¡± Pirin ran ahead of Nomad, out into the Summer Palace¡¯s vestibule, then out onto the terrace at the front of the palace. He rose up onto his tip toes and surveyed the city. To the west, a column of black smoke towered above the rooftops. It was wide enough to block out the setting sun. ¡°Explosion.¡±
I¡¯ve¡I¡¯ve still got a short flight left in me, Gray said. In reality, her chest was heaving, and she ruffled her feathers. Her beak was cracked, and she panted a few breaths still
¡°You sure?¡±
To¡see some more dissidents driven before us, to see them crushed beneath your power? Always!
¡°...Right.¡±
He climbed up into Gray¡¯s saddle, and with a flutter, she took off. She circled around to the palace¡¯s spires, then shot off toward the column of smoke. Where¡¯s it coming from? Is that¡just a neighborhood?
¡°I hope not.¡± Pirin leaned over the side of the saddle and stared down at the column of smoke.
It arose from a swath of charred, flattened buildings. Flames roared in the streets, and civilians sprinted about, running to and fro, looking for safety. Wood dried, daub flared, thatch blazed. A horse sprinted down the street, its mane burning.
Pirin swallowed. ¡°Not good.¡±
At the epicenter of the blast was a crater of torn pavement and scattered bricks. But the blast had originated from below ground. It penetrated deeper, and the cracks ran for miles. Catacombs and hallways crumbled, leaving angular sinkholes in the charred streets.
¡°They¡¯re in the catacombs!¡± Pirin exclaimed. ¡°We¡¯re going down there!¡±
Chapter 18: Autumn Council [Volume 4]
Myraden scrambled back along the sandy bottom of a training pit, clutching her shoulder and gasping. Blood poured out from between her fingers, and her arm refused to support her weight. The severed skin and muscle slid within her, creating a sickening sensation. She gagged. With a thud, she fell back into the sand.
It shouldn¡¯t have been so bad. It was a deep wound, sure, but the blade had pierced no major vessels or arteries.
But she was only a Kindling-stage wizard, and her blood was thin as could be.
A memory from years ago.
It wasn¡¯t over yet. The Hand and his four disciples stood in front of her. Two men, a seafolk, and a satyr¡ªand their Familiars. Hate burned in the disciples¡¯ eyes. They¡¯d found out who she was, where her allegiances lay, and that she was only here to gather information for Sirdia.
The Hand only watched with a plain, empty expression.
Kythen nipped at the back of her neck and clutched her cloak, pulling her away from the angry disciples. She pushed through the sand with her own feet, trying to reach the circle of trees ringing the training pit.
¡°Let me kill her,¡± said Nael, the satyr, who had already advanced to Catch. ¡°I¡¯ll make her pay for this treachery!¡±
¡°No,¡± said the Hand. ¡°Let her leave.¡±
Myraden had never understood why he¡¯d let her go. He could have killed her and saved himself a great deal of trouble.
But he held his sword out to the side, blocking Nael¡¯s path. ¡°You have orders, disciple. Stay where you are. She will die in those woods.¡±
She hadn¡¯t died. With Kythen¡¯s help, she had bandaged her wounds and snuck aboard a cargo transport, then navigated back to Sirdia. Until these past few months, she¡¯d never seen the Hand again.
Myraden and the Hand walked to the palace under the light of dawn. They strode across the street in their overcoats, their breaths condensing into steam. She rubbed her eyes, trying to purge the nightmare from her mind and concentrate on the present. It didn¡¯t work.
¡°Why did you let me live?¡± Myraden asked softly.
¡°Pardon?¡± The Hand tilted his head, but he didn¡¯t look at her. It¡¯d be improper for a marshal of his status.
She pulled her overcoat away from her shoulder. There was no scar anymore, but she could still imagine the lump of pale white flesh where she¡¯d cauterized the old wound. ¡°Back at Pliath Castle, during my initial training.¡±
The Hand snorted, letting out an abrupt puff of steam. ¡°I knew your father. We had been friends during the Seisse uprising¡ªand he helped me. I couldn¡¯t kill him back then, and I couldn¡¯t kill you either. Perhaps my greatest failure.¡±
¡°Do you regret it?¡±
¡°Yes. Not a day passes where I don¡¯t wish you were dead, that I had caught Pirin and delivered his head to the Emperor, and set everything right.¡±
¡°Then kill me.¡±
Again, the Hand snorted.
¡°Could you kill me?¡± Myraden asked. ¡°Are you strong enough?¡±
¡°Yes. One against one, I could kill you.¡±
¡°Then why not take your revenge?¡±
¡°We are past that point, don¡¯t you think? The Emperor is dead, my name means nothing, and killing you would serve no purpose¡ªif I could even bring myself to do it.¡±
They passed through a hedge gate, then down a central trail through the garden. Hedges rose on both sides, blocking out the garden from view and funnelling well-dressed guests into the palace for a morning gathering. The leaves were withering, and their edges were browning, but hedges were some of the last plants to turn orange in the fall.
Myraden made sure to keep a few steps behind the Hand, and Kythen trotted along a few paces behind. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
¡°We will hang back,¡± said the Hand. ¡°There will be a large gathering, where they will discuss empty nothings and minor matters. Squabbles with pirates, among others. Quelling local rebellions, the like.¡±
¡°We will watch?¡± Myraden tilted her head.
¡°If you are going to hunt for your elixirs, now is the time. I fear we won¡¯t stay undiscovered for long after we speak with Marshal The?mir.¡±
¡°Find him,¡± Myraden said. ¡°I will find the elixirs and meet back up with you.¡±
They walked up the steps to the palace¡¯s front gate and passed through the open doors, then entered an open foyer. Straight ahead was the old king¡¯s hall, but a line of Dominion soldiers blocked off the entryway. To the left was a different meeting hall, with two risers of seats on either side. Light poured through stained glass windows and illuminated the swirling dust.
It was a parliament chamber¡ªfrom when Greatsaad had been a constitutional monarchy. But that had been before the time of the Dominion. Now, its green-velvet upholstered benches held military minds.
To the right was a banquet hall. Currently empty, though servants darted about, preparing tables and cleaning chandeliers, replacing candles in the sconces and trimming the wreaths.
That was her target.
She pulled off her overcoat and opened her void pendant, then tucked the overcoat into the pendant. She covered Lejav¨¹dkue with the overcoat, then sealed it again.
Her dress flowed behind her, half made of smokey mesh and half of brown fabric, and at a sparing glance, it¡¯d seem fancy enough. She walked down the center of the banquet hall, dodging meek servants. They were all men or seafolk¡ªno ostals¡ªand they kept their heads down in the presence of her and Kythen.
Even if she was a sprite, they recognized her power as a wizard. She took a few shaky breaths, and for a few seconds, wanted to just command one of them. To see what would happen. Would he listen? Would he obey?
But she restrained herself. Such power was the realm of the Dominion, and she had to be better than them.
She walked to the end of the banquet hall unobstructed. A curtain blocked a smaller door to the kitchen, and an ostal supervisor in a white coat stood at its side, watching over the entire hall. He held his chin high, radiating superiority, and tapped a sheet of parchment irritatedly.
¡°Greetings, madame,¡± he said after a few seconds¡ªafter she tried to duck through the curtain and slip into the kitchen beyond. He held out an arm in front of her. Though she could¡¯ve pushed through with ease, she stopped. No need to make a scene.
Good restraint, Kythen said inside her head.
¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she whispered.
¡°Are you lost, miss?¡± the ostal asked. He tilted his head, then observed her attire. Her runebond markings shone through mesh cutouts in the dress, and if the ostal had any sense or education, he¡¯d know what she was.
But she was still a sprite, and her standing here was more than obvious.
¡°I will help you find the marshal you were brought here to guard, whoever it was, and I will report you for wandering off. This is entirely unacceptable behaviour for a Kaless-Ost of the Dominion!¡± He reached forward and grabbed her bicep, then pulled her away from the curtains and the kitchen.
Sorry, Kythen, she thought.
But it was time to start a scene.
She threw the ostal¡¯s grip off with a shrug of her shoulder, then, with a light palm strike, flung the ostal back into the nearest banquet table. He crashed through the wood, shattered porcelain dishware, and scattered cutlery. It didn¡¯t kill him, but he wouldn¡¯t be chasing after her any time soon.
The nearby servants scrambled away, shouting and exclaiming in fright, and Dominion soldiers rushed into the banquet hall from the foyer.
Not good.
They can¡¯t hurt you unless you let them¡ªor there are thousands of them, Kythen remarked.
¡°And there aren¡¯t,¡± she replied in ¨ªshkaben. ¡°But they can cause a bigger commotion and make it harder for the Hand to do his job.¡±
She sprinted into the kitchen beyond, Kythen close on her heels. Inside was a low-ceilinged chamber with smoke clouding the ceiling and hearths lining the walls. Workers cooked over stoves, stirring pots or kneading dough, mashing herbs with a mortar and pestle or turning rotisseries.
What are we looking for? Kythen asked.
¡°We need to go deeper!¡± Myraden exclaimed. She dodged a chef with a cooking knife, then leapt over a boiling pot. The hem of her dress caught flame and ignited, but Kythen stomped it out with his hooves.
I can¡¯t help you if you don¡¯t tell me!
¡°Read my mind!¡±
I¡¯m trying, but it¡¯s hard when you¡¯re not focussing!
Should¡¯ve done that earlier. No time to explain now. She swung around a pillar, then sprinted to the back wall of the kitchen. A supply of kegs rested in a wall, but it was just ale.
Alcohol. Should¡¯ve been illegal according to Dominion law, but no one would be inspecting the depths of the kitchen.
You¡¯re going to get drunk? That¡¯s your plan?
¡°Is something wrong, miss?¡± a cook asked. He¡¯d been filling a cooking pan with ale¡ªprobably for some sort of odd-tasting meal that she had no desire to try. ¡°Do you need directions back to¡ª¡±
¡°Do you refine your own spirit wine here?¡±
The cook blinked. ¡°Sorry?¡±
¡°Where is your wine cellar?¡±
¡°Down that stairway, first door on your left.¡±
A group of Dominion soldiers pushed through the curtain Myraden had entered through. ¡°The sprite! Stop her!¡±
Myraden and Kythen slipped around the cook, who pressed himself up against the wall. At least there was someone here who wasn¡¯t suicidal.
She sprinted down the stairway he pointed to, then entered a dimly-lit, tight hallway. Pantries lined the wall. Pushing open the first door to her left, she charged into a dark room filled with barrels and amphoras.
The wine cellar.
Chapter 19: The Last Resistance [Volume 4]
Gray dove down to the ground as fast as she could, then came to a halt at the center of the crater. The ground was black and smouldering, and Pirin couldn¡¯t make out much beneath the layers of ash, but the slopes of the crater exposed tunnels of the catacombs.
¡°How much do you wanna bet the last Dominion resistance is hiding in there?¡± Pirin whispered.
I get extra birdseed if you¡¯re wrong, and I get extra birdseed if you¡¯re right?
¡°You did do a lot of flying today. Definitely earned it.¡± Pirin drew his sword and shut his eyes. He hadn¡¯t had time to accumulate any more pure Essence, and he only had half his usual supply of gnatsnapper Essence left. But it¡¯d have to be enough. But, for good measure, he drew the stub of his sword.
How do you know they¡¯re in there? Gray asked.
¡°Who else would blow up a residential district? I sure hope it wasn¡¯t any of our guys, but either way, we need to find out.¡±
They could¡¯ve escaped the city.
¡°I suspect that goes for many of the regular soldiers. But for the wizard?¡± Pirin shook his head. ¡°Do you really think the Dominion would just let a Blaze go after abandoning a city? Even if they¡¯ve chosen not to care about Vel Aerdeil.¡±
Gray rumbled softly. I suppose not. Their pride is too great, punishment for failure too steep. If they stay here, they can cause havoc.
¡°Which means we have to root them out.¡±
Pirin shut his eyes and relied on his spiritual senses. What he¡¯d previously thought of as a push and pull, he now registered as a weight. It felt like it was pushing down on his core from one direction or another.
Today, it was pushing from a direction toward the city center and the Summer Palace. The wizard wasn¡¯t even veiling himself anymore. He¡¯d probably detonated a weapons cache in the catacombs with his abilities.
¡°Oh, you better not be doing what I think you¡¯re doing¡¡± Pirin muttered. ¡°If he destroys the throne, we¡¯re done for.¡±
Can he destroy the throne? Gray asked.
¡°I don¡¯t want to find out.¡±
What if he¡¯s trying to lead you into a trap?
¡°Then we spring it. The cost of waiting is too great.¡±
He ran up the slope of the crater and stepped into the nearest catacomb hallway. It led toward the city center¡ªin the direction of the Dominion wizard¡ªand Pirin followed it.
The walls were thin shelves of white limestone with elven skeletons crammed in between. They¡¯d been in here for centuries, but a smell of rot lingered. Dark Essence seeped from their bones and manifested in the cracks of the bricks, giving them bulging, black veins. Elves had a slight inherent magic to them, still, even if most couldn¡¯t manifest it. But the world seemed to hate when they died.
Or, simply, there was a by-product left behind when they did die.
The hallway¡¯s arched ceiling was twice the height of Pirin, and the hall was just wide enough for Gray to follow him through.
He slid on his mask and flooded the runes with power. If he needed, he could draw on gnatsnapper Essence.
But Gray was right. If this was a trap, he had to be ready for battle. He wasn¡¯t in prime fighting condition, and chances were, he was up against a Blaze with much more experience than him.
And they couldn¡¯t afford to move slowly. He sprinted down the hallway, relying on his enhanced body to move quickly. It drained Essence, but not as much as if he were to push with wind and use his pseudo-fortification technique.
The walls of the hallway blurred. He tracked the feeling of spiritual weight from the other Blaze in the city.
Pirin was faster, or the other Blaze was purposely moving slower. They had to be nearly halfway back to the summer palace by now, and wherever this Blaze was, he was close by. The weight on Pirin¡¯s core wasn¡¯t unbearable, but it was a direct push, and he could barely distinguish direction anymore. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Then the other Blaze¡¯s core stopped exerting any pressure at all.
Pirin stopped and held out a hand, then charged a Winged Fist. Gray skittered to a halt behind him.
The wall to the left burst apart into shards of bone and black-veined limestone, but Pirin launched a burst of wind in the opposite direction, halting them mid-air before they could harm him.
An ostal leapt through the swirling dust, wielding a heavy battle-axe with two hands. He slammed it down toward Pirin and Gray. They both rolled in opposite directions, avoiding the strike.
The ostal wore the standard dark grey leather armour and white cloak of Dominion wizards, and runebond markings ran across his hands and up his cheeks to his eyes¡ªlike golden, runic tears. A mane of porcupine spines ran down the back of his head, and through a slit in the back of his armour and cloak.
A hedgehog Familiar? Gray asked.
Pirin wanted to shoot Gray a sarcastic look, as if to say ¡°Seriously?¡± but the wizard unleashed a bolt of yellow Essence at him. It formed into a spine mid-air, then splintered apart and struck the wall behind him like a burst from a flak catapult.
Pirin rolled out of the way in time, but the shards tore up a cloud of dust and stone shards, and this time, Pirin couldn¡¯t stall them mid-air. A chunk of stone struck him in the back and sent him sprawling onto his stomach, but he rolled over and countered with a concentrated pulse of wind. It struck the wizard in the chest. At such a close range, bone cracked and flesh tore. Miniature feathers of Essence manifested in the air without Pirin trying, slicing the wizard¡¯s armour and damaging the skin below.
For the first time, Pirin got a good look at the wizard. He was an old ostal with grey hair and ashy rings on his horns, and his long beard had been tied into a ponytail. A porcupine clung to his shoulder, squealing with glee.
No obvious signs of a perfect body enhancement. With the ostal¡¯s core unveiled once more, Pirin used his spiritual sight to scan the man. Only five foundation timbers.
But his spine glowed as well. The base of it, at least¡ªmaybe a quarter to a third of it. He¡¯d opened¡two of his Inner Gates?
Still a threat.
Pirin held the stub of his sword at his side and pushed himself from behind with wind. This wizard would want to keep Pirin at a distance, and Pirin couldn¡¯t allow that. He dispersed a clump of Essence spines with a Winged Fist, then struck the battle axe¡¯s haft with the stub of his sword. It was tough¡ªEssence-soaked titanwood¡ªand it resisted Pirin¡¯s reign.
But the wizard still stumbled, taken aback by the speed of the attack and the strength of Pirin¡¯s enhanced body.
He stumbled right into Gray. She struck him in the back with her beak. It¡¯d normally be a debilitating blow, but a sheen of yellow Essence swirled over the wizard, taking on the texture of matted porcupine spikes.
The wizard blocked fatal damage, but Gray gripped the porcupine in her beak with her next blow and dragged it off the wizard¡¯s shoulder, then threw it down the hallway like she¡¯d just picked up hot coals.
Spiky! she exclaimed. Not a hedgehog!
Pirin concentrated his Reign and manifested Essence along the remains of his blade, and the wizard did the same with his axehead. It was an arms race, but unevern. Each time Pirin struck the axehead, he drilled out a chip of steel. A crack formed through the axehead, and the weapon splintered.
While Pirin attacked from the front, Gray pecked from behind and slashed with her talons. The wizard blocked her with pulses of spiky Essence, holding her off until the porcupine returned. It leapt at Gray and gripped her beak, then pulled her head into the wall. Its strength was concentrated, and Gray, despite her enhancements, was still a bird. She kicked the porcupine and scraped at it with her talons, keeping it away from Pirin and allowing him to focus on the wizard.
But the wizard could also focus entirely on him.
Striking with an open palm, the wizard drove a spike of golden Essence at Pirin¡¯s gut. Pirin pushed against it with a current of wind, but it still pierced a few inches into his skin. He gritted his teeth, then shattered the spike with a slash of his sword stub.
The wizard staggered back, and Pirin pressed forward. He slammed the man¡¯s head into the wall with a gust of wind, then pushed him down to the floor with a Winged Fist. Overturning the hilt of his sword, he blocked a chorus of blows, then counter attacked and turned the fight to his prerogative.
He batted aside the man¡¯s battle axe, then slashed through his fortification technique with his Reign.
The wizard¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°An¡Embercore. Impossible¡¡±
¡°Not impossible,¡± Pirin spat. ¡°I¡¯m evidence of it.¡±
If he left this wizard alive, he¡¯d cause countless problems and headaches for Pirin. There was no question about it. Pirin drove his blade¡¯s stub down and pierced the wizard¡¯s heart. For good measure, he launched a Winged Fist into the man¡¯s head. His neck snapped back, cracking from the speed, and his skull smashed against the floor.
Pirin staggered to his feet and turned toward Gray. She hopped back on one foot. With the other talon, she gripped a porcupine quill sticking out of her shoulder. Next time, you fight the spike ball!
¡°I hope we won¡¯t have to deal with a porcupine wizard again¡¡± He patted his gut and gasped, but the wound wasn¡¯t as bad as it could have been. With the remaining dregs of gnatsnapper Essence in his channels, he fuelled his enhanced body and urged the strands of muscle to knit back together.
Now, don¡¯t get yourself into any more fights today, said Gray. We don¡¯t have the Essence for it.
¡°I hope it doesn¡¯t come to that¡¡± Pirin shook his head. ¡°But since we¡¯re in the catacombs¡we need to go on an elixir hunt.¡±
No better time. But¡it¡¯s getting late.
Once we find what we need, we¡¯ll head back to the surface. The Chancellor will need to hear about this, and we need to plan our next steps.¡±
Chapter 20: Marshal The?mir [Volume 4]
Myraden activated her spiritual sight as soon as she entered the cellar. If they had wizards here, there would be spirit wines as delicacies¡ªunless the Dominion was getting really stingy.
So your plan is to get drunk? Kythen asked.
¡°No,¡± Myraden said. She shut the door to the cellar and leaned against it, then barred it with a plank of wood. Hopefully, she¡¯d have a few minutes before the Dominion soldiers found her. She spoke in ¨ªshkaben and explained, ¡°They can¡¯t ship spirit wine for long distances, or the spiritual energy will decay and leak, rendering it useless. And they can¡¯t grow it here. They¡¯re better off transporting larger casks of elixir. More volume means the lower layers of the elixir won¡¯t leak and decay as badly.¡±
And that¡¯s what we¡¯ll use.
¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯ll steal.¡±
In her spiritual sight, most of the barrels were entirely blank and dark, devoid of power. But in the corner, a stack of barrels glimmered pale blue. Their edges dimmed, but the center cores of elixir still burned bright blue¡ªalmost as bright as the sun.
The elixir doesn¡¯t mix? Kythen asked.
Myraden ran over to the corner and pulled down the barrel, then cracked its lid open with her bare hands. The surface of the elixir wiggled and shook, but didn¡¯t spill out. In her regular vision, it was dark blue, save for a cocoon of glowing energy at the center. A tube of iron surrounded it. She pulled it up, separating most of the core of powerful gel from useless outer gel.
¡°They haven¡¯t mixed it yet,¡± Myraden muttered.
Chances are, they need to melt it into a liquid again and mix it with the wine.
¡°Works in our favour.¡±
She opened her void pendant and set it on the ground, then slid the tube of gel into the corner.
How many do you think we¡¯ll need?
¡°I¡¯ll take as many as I can fit.¡± She cracked open three more barrels and stuffed them into the corner of the void pendant¡¯s opening space. Between her supplies, rations, and old clothes and armour, there wasn¡¯t much room for anything else. She was tempted to retrieve her spear, but when she returned to the Hand, she might still need to blend in.
Before she could crack open another barrel, a metal fist pounded on the door. The crossbar shuddered and splintered.
She shut the void pendant and wrapped it back around her neck, then turned to face the door.
I suppose we¡¯re leaving the Hands equipment and items back at the apartment.
She shrugged, then activated her Tundra Veins. Once they spread across her whole body, illuminating the strands of silk beneath her skin, she charged a crimson arc. Bloodhorn Essence glimmered in the palm of her hand. ¡°He still has his sword on him, and I have his glove in my void pendant.¡±
I suppose that¡¯s all he needs.
She launched a blast of crimson Essence at the door and knocked it off its frame. It flew back into the wall behind, knocking aside two soldiers and sending another sprawling to the ground.
Running out into the hallway beyond, she and Kythen smashed through another soldier. With punches and kicks, she debilitated two more, then flung another down the hall. He skidded along the floor on his back, armour sparking on the stone floor.
Now that she had an enhanced body, she didn¡¯t have to worry about striking armour with her fists or shins. Her dress whirled with each movement, obscuring her and hiding any precision from the soldiers.
And that was if they could compete with her training and strength.
When she cleared out the soldiers in the hallway, a few servants stood in the wings, looking out from their pantries with vegetables and bread in their arms.
But she wasn¡¯t in the open, and hopefully, the commotion would stay isolated for a few minutes.
She maintained her tundra veins and sprinted back the way she came¡ªup to the kitchen, through it, and across the banquet hall. A few servants turned to stare at her, but they were too scared to say anything. She slowed to a walk and skirted around the edge of the banquet hall, keeping her head down.
Another troop of soldiers sprinted in the opposite direction, down the central aisle of the banquet hall, then entered the kitchen and disappeared.
She took off at a run again, then sprinted out the banquet hall and into the foyer. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
By now, the marshals and other guests of the autumn council were departing from the parliament chamber on the left and mingling around. They sipped champagne from delicate crystal glasses and made banal conversation with each other.
Myraden tapped her foot in her boot. Her hands quivered. ¡°Oh¡where is the Hand now?¡±
She rose up on her tip-toes, then hopped. The crowd thickened, and she could only see heads. She cursed softly, then lowered herself down and darted about, moving from person to person and asking if they¡¯d seen a man with the Hand¡¯s description.
Most turned her away with a scowl or an entitled scoff, and some opted to lift their chins and turn away in disgust. A few spat, ¡°Dirty sprite,¡± before scampering to the edges of the foyer and averting their gazes.
These people knew she was a wizard, could see her advancement, yet still thought they were invincible? None were wizards. They were mortals.
And so was the Hand. Her spiritual senses did her no good looking for him in a crowd of non-wizards.
But she restrained herself. Finally, one pointed hurriedly across the foyer¡ªat a corner with a couple potted plants and a candlestand. Perhaps he was just trying to get rid of her as quickly as possible, but it didn¡¯t matter. Between the bustling people, a slice of the Hand¡¯s new doublet slipped through.
Myraden wove through the crowd, ducking her head and turning to avoid people as much as she could. Kythen followed, but he had worse luck. Guests yelped and exclaimed when he pushed past.
When she reached the Hand, she was about to ask if he¡¯d found The?mir, but she didn¡¯t need to. An elven man stood across from him.
The elf wore an ornate suit of ambersteel armour, as if still clinging to the idea that he had some prestige and standing left¡ªdespite what the Dominion said. Few other guests wore armour.
A bright orange cloak hung around his shoulders, and his long blond hair fell down his back in braids. Being an elf, he couldn¡¯t grow a beard even if he tried, but his face would¡¯ve been perfect for it. Still, he made up for his lack of facial hair with scars. Each added a decade to his appearance, and one nearly scratched out his entire left eye. It was cloudy and cataract-filled.
This had to be Marshal The?mir.
Myraden opened her mouth, then shut it again, realizing that she had just barged into an important conversation. The Hand was doing her work for her?
¡°Apologies,¡± she said. ¡°I just came to inform my lord that¡ª¡±
¡°He has told me the situation,¡± said The?mir. ¡°It was risky hunting for me, and especially someone of your appearance.¡± He glanced at both of them. ¡°But I understand that in war, risks must be taken.¡±
She leaned closer to the Hand. ¡°What have you told him so far?¡±
¡°Only that we need his help, in a vague way.¡±
Myraden glanced about, trying to gauge whether anyone was listening in. Less for her and the Hand¡¯s sake, and more for The?mir¡¯s. If there was any suspicion about his allegiance, or his plans, they might not give him an opportunity to return to Aerdia.
Myraden whispered, ¡°We are Sirdians.¡±
¡°I figured it was something of the sort,¡± The?mir said. ¡°Good day, then. I must be off, and¡ª¡±
¡°Wait,¡± she hissed, moving to the other side to stop him. ¡°The king has returned.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve heard rumours of his return for years.¡± The?mir turned in a slow circle back to face the Hand. ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to believe them any more than the Dominion manifestos telling me he¡¯s dead.¡±
¡°I met him,¡± said Myraden. ¡°I am friends with him.¡±
¡°Some proof that is.¡±
She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why did the Aerdians denounce the old king and accept Tarliom?¡±
¡°For strength. Tarliom claimed he would guarantee elven independence.¡±
¡°And look how that went,¡± the Hand snapped. ¡°You would trust the Dominion?¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know who to trust,¡± The?mir said. ¡°I am lost.¡±
The Hand crossed his arms. ¡°If you¡¯re lost in a dark cave, will you stand motionless, or would you start walking and seeking a way out?¡±
¡°A Seissen would know so much about ¡®seeking a way out¡¯? Look how quickly your little uprising crumbled.¡±
The Hand stayed motionless, and he stared directly at The?mir.
¡°Your men trust you,¡± Myraden said.
¡°Because I don¡¯t throw their lives away in meaningless conflicts.¡±
¡°You will throw all their lives away if the Dominion has its way.¡± She narrowed her eyes. ¡°How old are you? Sixty season-cycles? Seventy? You are old enough to remember a time before the Sundering.¡±
¡°Sixty-two. And yes, I do remember those days. I was a young low-marshal.¡± He leaned closer. ¡°Every day, I regret not travelling north with the loyalists. But the past is set, and I must live with my choices.¡±
¡°But what if you could make a difference in the present?¡± Myraden asked. ¡°Sirdia does not have the numbers to defeat the Dominion alone. We need your help convincing the Aerdian army to join us.¡±
¡°They will follow you into battle, it seems,¡± said the Hand.
The?mir narrowed his eyes, then opened and shut his mouth a few times, before finally saying, ¡°I have a granddaughter. We identified a minor bloodline talent blooming in her, but she¡¯s an Embercore. I hear your king is also an Embercore.¡±
Myraden nodded.
¡°When he lifts this curse on the Elven Continent and sets himself on the throne, I need one assurance. He must create a school for wizards, and he must train the less fortunate ones. He must take disciples.¡±
Myraden glanced at the Hand.
¡°I cannot make promises for him,¡± said the Hand.
¡°I am certain he would,¡± Myraden said. ¡°He knows what it¡¯s like to be an Embercore, and he knows how to help.¡±
The?mir nodded. ¡°Then¡if the throne blooms, and only if it does, if we have a cause that isn¡¯t completely lost, I will come to Sirdia¡¯s aid. I will depart as soon as I can and travel to Vel Aerdeil.¡±
Myraden nodded excitedly, but the Hand said, ¡°You need not depart immediately. Don¡¯t sacrifice what little standing you have left. Wait until the council finishes. You have an airship, yes?¡±
¡°Correct.¡±
¡°If possible, I would ask you to travel north to Harmkvord bay first. You will find us there, and we could use a swift route back to the Elven Continent.¡±
¡°...I will arrange it.¡±
¡°Now¡ª¡±
¡°There she is!¡± a soldier shouted from across the foyer. ¡°The sprite!¡±
Chapter 21: Aerdeils Elixirs [Volume 4]
¡°If they¡¯re storing elixir underground, it has to be in a place where it wouldn¡¯t decay,¡± Pirin said, turning in a circle and observing the catacombs. Between shattered walls, scattered debris of limestone and bone, and cracking ceilings, there wasn¡¯t much sign of elixir storage. ¡°On the Aremir estate, they kept the elixir near the shore and used seawater to cool it.¡±
Then the old elixir stores might be near the rivers, said Gray.
¡°Even then,¡± Pirin lamented, ¡°it¡¯ll be old. Really old.¡±
So the chancellor was wrong? We could go ask him¡
¡°There has to be a reason.¡± Pirin rubbed his chin, then assessed the direction he¡¯d come from. He¡¯d turned side to side a little, but he didn¡¯t need precise directions. If he headed left or right, he¡¯d get closer to the rivers on either side of the city. Either the Senflow or the Eldflow. It didn¡¯t really matter.
Unless they only stored elixir close to one of the rivers, Gray complained.
¡°Maybe I¡¯d sense its presence?¡± Pirin tried to feel any weight on his soul, but there was nothing¡ªnot even a push or pull in either direction. His spiritual sight didn¡¯t accomplish much either. But it was a large city, and he hadn¡¯t had the same time to refine his new senses as other wizards at his stage.
He¡¯d just have to make a choice.
¡°Senflow is faster, so it¡¯d cycle through water quicker,¡± Pirin reasoned. ¡°It¡¯d be a better place to store elixirs.¡±
So they set off to the left, first passing through the hole the Dominion wizard had torn in the wall, then taking as directed of a route as they could. The tunnels of the catacombs sloped deeper, avoiding busy streets above and moving with the curve of the ground. The tunnels stayed the exact same size, though different sections seemed newer, and some seemed older. Different architects built with different styles, but using the same materials. Sometimes, skeletons packed closer together, and sometimes, formed morbid arrangements of bones.
They passed an altar with two long burnt-out candles and rotten corpses on the ground. They¡¯d died relatively recently; shreds of dried flesh and sinew hung off their bones, the tatters of their black robes remained, and their bony hands still clung to knives they¡¯d used to make ritual sacrifices.
¡°Cultists,¡± Pirin whispered.
You know who they are?
¡°I can guess, that''s all. Don¡¯t know exactly what they were doing, but they look like cultists. Something bad happened here, and I don¡¯t like it.¡± He nudged one of their arms. ¡°Light bones. They were elves, too.¡±
Guess they¡¯re getting desperate. Even if they don¡¯t show it.
At that, Pirin picked up his pace until he could hear flowing water trickling over stone. It wasn¡¯t deep enough to be a riverbed, but it was a sign.
The catacombs expanded into a broad hallway of sandstone. Instead of skeletons, the walls boasted large bricks and thick pillars. It was wide enough for Gray to spread her wings across the whole hall, and the ceiling was slightly higher, with steeper arches.
They¡¯d just entered ancient ruins, not catacombs.
¡°I suppose they repurposed something, after all,¡± Pirin said. He scratched the side of his head. ¡°I suppose if the elves built the labyrinths, then there might also be remains of their old structures beneath the ancient capital.¡± As far as he knew, Vel Aerdeil had been the capital of Khirdia as long as it had existed.
Thousands of years of wizard-kings ruling, all wiped out by a single death.
¡°Though, it begs the question¡¡± He chewed his lip. ¡°Was Mransil III a Wildflame? And if he was, did they kill him, or did he die of old age? Thousands of years of elven strength, only to just¡disappear?¡±
Can you use the Memory Chain?
¡°When we get out of here, I¡¯ll try.¡±
They followed the sandstone hallway. It didn¡¯t branch or turn¡ªexcept at the end, when it delivered them into a vast hall. Pale blue light rose from three basins at the center of the room, illuminating the room with a shifting glow. Sparks of Essence flowed through the air, hanging and twirling.
The ceiling was higher, but the walls were bare and plain¡ªsave for shelves covered in barrels and clay bottles. But the basins demanded his attention. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Pirin knelt down. Each basin provided a faint spiritual energy from a distance¡ªso weightless he could barely feel it until he got close¡ªbut the moment he knelt down and brought his core within three feet of the basin, a sudden weight pressed down on it.
A runic script ran around the edge of each basin, powered by the energy of the elixirs, and creating an invisible veiling wall around the basin. But Pirin couldn¡¯t make out any of the letters. They looked vaguely like the southern scripts Nomad had shown him, the pre-translated sutras.
A secondary moat ran around the edge of each basin, filled with river water. It ran down from tiny aqueducts along the wall, flowing toward the basins and filling them with cold river water before cycling around to a drain in the floor. The constant moving water would¡¯ve kept the elixirs cool.
Are they strong? Gray asked.
Pirin activated his spiritual sight and stared at the basins. They weren¡¯t as bright as he expected¡ªlike looking at the edge of a torch¡¯s flame¡ªbut given how long they¡¯d been sitting here, it was good enough. And better yet, they were as pure as could be. He¡¯d have no problem processing them and their spiritual energy quickly.
¡°They¡¯re strong enough,¡± he confirmed. ¡°Now¡we just need a way to carry them.¡±
He set his void pendant down on the ground and activated it, revealing a hole in space with the shards of his sword and the broken remains of Neria¡¯s control dagger, along with the old broken branch of the throne. Plenty of room for barrels and jugs.
He ran to the edge of the room and picked up a barrel. It sloshed, and when Pirin opened its spigot, cloudy water poured out. It had probably once been elixir, but had decayed over the centuries.
With Gray¡¯s help, he dumped the old, unused elixir out from the barrels and filled them with new, fresh elixir. It might only last a few weeks within his void pendant, but once he had instructions from Nomad, he could use them¡ªand that wouldn¡¯t take any longer than a few weeks.
Once he¡¯d filled his void pendant with as many barrels of elixir as he could fit, he closed it and hoisted it back up. It was heavier than usual, and more than just physically¡ªlike the weight of all the elixirs, removed from their veiling field, were now weighing on his core directly. Without his foundation timbers, he worried his core would¡¯ve bent out of shape or broken.
But for now, they had everything they needed.
¡°Now we¡¯ve gotta find a way out of here,¡± Pirin muttered. He paced down the hallway, retracing his steps. The tunnels rose again, veering away from the rivers. The bottoms of flagstone streets hung from the ceiling.
At an intersection¡ªboth in the catacombs and on the streets above¡ªthere was a grate in the center of the street, separating them.
Pirin reached up, then used his enhanced body to jump up and grip the grate. He twisted and pushed until it popped off, then threw it to the side and climbed out into a deserted evening street. Gray followed close behind, squishing through the opening with her wings tucked at her sides.
A cool breeze blew through the street, carrying ashy debris, and in the distance, the column of smoke still rose where the aftermath of the explosion blazed away. Pirin winced, but pushed the regret down. He¡¯d stopped the Blaze before anything else like that could happen, and the city was as good as theirs.
A patrol of Sirdian soldiers marched down the street. Immediately, they turned to face him, and a few ran over. ¡°My lord!¡± one exclaimed. ¡°What were you doing?¡±
Pirin exhaled, then pushed himself up and brushed the dust off himself. ¡°Sorry for scaring anyone. The Blaze is dead, and though there may be a few pockets of resistance, the city is ours. Now, I must get back to the chancellor.¡±
With a few soldiers trailing behind as an escort (on their own will), he and Gray walked back to the Summer Palace on foot. No sense in flying. Even if Gray agreed to another flight, she had to be exhausted. No need to get either of them hurt.
Finally, when he reached the front terrace of the palace, the escorting soldiers backed away and returned to their duties in the city. He took the stairs up two at a time, then stopped at a landing, where Ivescent, Nomad, and Marshal Velbor stood.
¡°So?¡± Ivescent asked. ¡°All we have are confused reports. Weapons cache detonating, just a plain fire, a purely Essence explosion. All conflicting.¡±
¡°I killed the Blaze,¡± Pirin said. ¡°Whatever resistance is left has no commander. I didn¡¯t find any more weapons caches, but I do have elixirs.¡± He sat down and let his legs dangle along the gentle slope of the stairs out to the palace¡¯s plaza.
¡°Very good!¡± Ivescent then turned to Nomad. ¡°How quickly can you get him to advance to wildflame? We just need to hold the city¡ª¡±
¡°No, chancellor,¡± Pirin said. ¡°I¡¯m leaving you in charge of Vel Aerdeil, along with Marshal Velbor and the army we have. Fortify the city, prepare for the worst, and try to gather as many Aerdians as you can. Wait for Marshal The?mir and Myraden.¡±
¡°What are you going to do?¡±
¡°I¡¯m going to Dremfell, and hopefully, Nomad comes with me. Along the way, I can focus on opening my Inner Gates and advancing. When we arrive, we¡¯ll hold off the Dominion army as long as we can.¡±
¡°They have Unbound Lords with them¡¡± Nomad warned. ¡°I can¡¯t save you from them again.¡±
¡°That¡¯s exactly why I need to be there. To them, our mortal soldiers and weavelings will just be ants to stomp. At least I can distract them.¡± He turned to Ivescent. ¡°Chancellor, if what you¡¯ve told me is true, then you want what¡¯s best for our home. I am relying on you to bring the Aerdian army to us and turn the tide of this invasion. Hopefully, with Myraden and Marshal The?mir in tow.¡±
Ivescent sighed.
¡°Do I have your word, chancellor? When the throne blooms, you¡¯ll come to our aid?¡±
¡°Yes, yes. I will do it.¡±
Unconvincing. But Pirin had no other choices. Perhaps Marshal Velbor would kick the chancellor into action, if nothing else. Pirin looked directly at the elven marshal. ¡°Velbor? You¡¯ll keep him in line for me, right?¡±
¡°Yes, my lord,¡± said Velbor. ¡°I will do my very best.¡±
¡°You have a branch of the throne?¡± Nomad asked.
¡°Yes, sir.¡± Pirin patted his void pendant. ¡°Now¡we need to get the Featherflight moving. It can¡¯t wait any longer.¡±
Chapter 22: Insolent Elves [Volume 4]
Myraden pulled her spear out from her void pendant. Her cover was gone, and she needed to defend herself. First, she whipped the spearhead around on its loose string, cutting away the long tails of the dress and freeing up her legs. Then, she flooded it with Essence, firming it up into a straight haft.
Soldiers pushed through the crowd, approaching with their swords drawn. Guests shuffled aside, shouting. There may have been marshals (and a few sparse wizards) present, but none of them drew their ceremonial swords or advanced on her and the Hand.
The Hand drew his blade as well.
¡°Run!¡± Myraden hissed. ¡°No point in fighting it out!¡±
He¡¯s just a man, Kythen said. He cannot keep up with you in a race of distance.
A lump caught in her throat, and she shuddered. But there was no time to ruminate. ¡°Climb on Kythen¡¯s back!¡± Myraden hissed. ¡°He will carry you!¡±
She repeated the instructions to Kythen in ¨ªshkaben, and the bloodhorn knelt down, allowing the Hand up on his back.
Myraden activated her Tundra Veins, then pushed the same technique across her bond to Kythen, fuelling him as well. They sprinted out the foyer doors, moving faster than most of the guests could fathom, then turned to the gates of the Crown Ring wall.
¡°Once you get out the wall, turn north!¡± the Hand shouted. ¡°We make for the ¨ªskan bridge! If our luck holds, it will still be open!¡±
She and Kythen sprinted out the gate of the Crown Ring. The soldiers were already raising the alarm and shutting the portcullis, but they didn¡¯t move fast enough. She and Kythen slipped beneath the portcullis and out into the streets.
We¡¯re about halfway out of Essence, Kythen said. If we keep up this pace, we¡¯ll sputter out a few miles beyond the city limits, and their riders will overtake us.
¡°Deactivate the Tundra Veins,¡± she instructed in ¨ªshkaben. ¡°We¡¯ll still outpace them with our enhanced bodies, but we¡¯ll go farther, and their riders will give up before they catch us¡ªif they send riders at all.¡±
As they neared the edge of the city, darting through the busy streets, dodging civilians and carts and unsuspecting patrols, she deactivated the fortification technique. They slowed down to half their previous pace.
The nearby buildings still faded away, growing sparse before dropping off entirely. After a few hours, she couldn¡¯t smell the city anymore, and the columns of smoke no longer rose above the horizon.
Her enhanced body still depleted her Essence, and it was nearly out by the time she stopped feeding it and slowed to a walk. No sense in running herself dry only for a half-mile advantage over the riders.
¡°Are you out already?¡± the Hand asked.
¡°Almost,¡± she replied. ¡°I am sure Kythen carrying you does not help our cause.¡±
He shook his head. ¡°Give me a clean one-on-one fight, and I will show you who pulls their weight around here.¡±
¡°Are you sure a wizard would not speed around faster than you, overwhelming you in seconds?¡±
The Hand scoffed. ¡°Their speed is negligible in a confrontation like that. My sword is already where it needs to be. I know where they will move, where they will strike, and I have enough reign to cut through anything they throw at me.¡±
¡°Could you defeat a Wildflame?¡±
¡°Perhaps. I was the Emperor¡¯s desperate measure.¡±
¡°So much for your confidence.¡±
¡°I could kill them, and they could kill me. I cannot guarantee the outcome of that fight, but by that nature, they will be equally as wary of me.¡±
Pirin wasted no time travelling to the Featherflight. It occupied a pier at one of Vel Aerdeil¡¯s mooring towers¡ªan old structure of white limestone towering above its surroundings. Wooden piers sprouted off it at all angles, but currently, the Featherflight was the only airship in the city.
He, Gray, and Nomad climbed up the tower, then walked out along the pier to the ship. Even though the sky was a deep blue, and wispy clouds blocked half the moonslight, making the evening darker than usual, there were no torches on the mooring tower. Couldn¡¯t risk igniting the lifting gas. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Pirin ran to the Featherflight¡¯s gondola and stepped across the gap between the pier and the open door, only to arrive in a cramped, dark room filled with people.
Alyus and Brealtod, of course, stood at the wheels, but Skell and Ebb¡ªthe two weaveling low-marshals¡ªstood at the map table, and another pair of Sirdian elves stood behind, along with the ship¡¯s two lookout elves.
Pirin beamed, but quickly wiped the expression from his face. ¡°There¡¯s a high chance we won¡¯t make it back.¡±
The weavelings rustled and clicked, and after a few moments¡¯ thought, Pirin translated it to, ¡°You need someone to convince the other weaveling groups of your valour.¡±
The Sirdians shifted in their armour and looked directly at him. ¡°We can¡¯t leave you out to dry, my lord. This is how many of us your captain and first mate allowed to come aboard.¡±
¡°You elves have light bones, eh?¡± Alyus asked. ¡°Get your bird to the cargo hold, then find a place to sit. We¡¯re going full sail to Dremfell, and on my pride as a smuggler, we¡¯ll make record time.¡±
Lord Two arrived in Ostaloth only a few hours too late. Ever since he¡¯d returned to the Mainland to hunt the sprite, he¡¯d been just a little too late¡ªno matter where he went. The Seissen bordertown of Deep-Bei? Demonling purged. The work of a powerful wizard. It had to be her.
First, he¡¯d expected her to travel deeper into Seisse, hunting for elixir refineries, or perhaps seeking out an active labyrinth. But he found no sign, so he adjusted his search. He travelled north along the coast until he reached Greatsaad Bay where, in the little villages and towns along the coast, reports of a sprite with crystal antlers floated about.
No matter what, it¡¯d be impossible for a blonde-haired sprite to hide in these lands, much less one with antlers made of red crystal. And one who travelled with an enormous horse-sized goat¡ªa bloodhorn, native to ¨ªskan.
But she had never been alone. At least, not according to the rumours.
She ¡°travelled with a red-gloved man¡±, or ¡°a black-coated Seissen man who looked nearly as dour and dreary as you¡±. (The last one hit a little too close to home to Lord Two, even if Two still proudly wore his magenta cloak and light armour.)
But the Red Hand still lived. There was no one else it could be.
He tracked them north to Ulan-Ost, then to Ostaloth. The moment he thought he was catching up, a spiritual presence to the west distracted him, and he chased it, but it turned out only to be a pilgrimage of old Flares. So many clumped together that, combined, they produced the spiritual weight of a Blaze.
They were perhaps a hundred and fifty years old, kept alive beyond their mortal expiry by their Essence, but it wouldn¡¯t last forever, and they seemed just as old as a mortal man who turned seventy season-cycles.
Lord Two cursed under his breath as he watched them from high up on a ridge. They were local Greatsaadan men, with broad, round cheeks and light bronze skin. Their hair would¡¯ve been black if not for age.
But no time to waste. He had to catch up to that damn sprite. She¡¯d get everything coming to her.
We have only seen her once, in a passing glimpse, said his Familiar. The cat-sized scorpion still perched on his shoulder, clinging to his armour with its purple legs. She is your duty, not your feud.
Lord Two rolled his eyes. ¡°She¡¯s a sprite, M¨¦lier. She deserves it.¡±
You¡¯ve seen enough of the Dominion¡¯s inner workings, the scorpion¡¯s voice grumbled inside his head. You should know what lies they¡¯re feeding you.
¡°I understand where their lies are coming from. My anger comes from a different source, and I will have revenge. When Sirdia falls, we shall slaughter the sprites hiding there. The Burning of ¨ªskan was a convenience, but it was nowhere near complete enough. But this sprite-girl¡¯s death shall be a wonderful start.¡±
The scorpion chittered softly, but said nothing.
¡°Come, now. By all accounts, she¡¯s heading north. When she reaches the ¨ªskan bridge, we shall intercept her.¡±
Lady Neria rode at the very rear of her army. She sat atop an average hauler-horse with no other burden. It strutted through the thick mud of No Man¡¯s Land with ease, lifting its hooves high in decade-old craters and trotting over ancient ruins.
The band of eternally wet, eternally dead land was a result of the early days of the elven civil war. So much elven blood spilled here, so much chaos and destruction, only to render a swath of land between Sirdia and Aerdia unusable.
But, then again, such suffering gave the Sirdians time to refortify their Dremfell Wall¡ªsome sort of ancient ruin in the mountain pass, now repurposed to defend the north from the south. If nothing else, she forced herself to acknowledge why they¡¯d fought so hard.
The elves thought the world weeped for them, and that was why their graves stained the ground. Neria preferred a simpler theory: their blood was simply toxic. They were a horrid plage deserving of eradication.
And then she smirked. With the help of Lord Three, the wall would fall in days, if not sooner. All their effort rendered useless.
They just hadn¡¯t worked hard enough to stay alive.
It would be a tremendous victory for the Dominion, and from there, Sirdia¡¯s main chokepoint on land would be gone, their supreme advantage nullified. Their dwindling numbers shattered.
She lifted her chin, keeping her eyes on-target. Ahead, a column of silver-armoured soldiers, mounted horsemen, and bird-riders poured across the land. Their boots squished through the mud. Supply wagons took the highest routes they could, and when they bogged down in muck, teams of cavalrymen hooked up to the wagon to pull it free.
When the mountain range emerged from the horizon, she ordered every soldier to begin hunting for scrap. They would assembled siege towers once they reached the mountain pass, but the trees of the pass were scarce, and they needed what little they could find.
She cracked her knuckles and tilted her head side-to-side. Stolen army or not, she would destroy these insolent elves.
Chapter 23: Loyal But Stubborn [Volume 4]
Pirin sat on the upper platform of the Featherflight with Nomad and Gray. Using the ship¡¯s stove, he¡¯d condensed the catacomb elixirs into a syrup, and after a few days of sailing, now only had three cups of vibrant blue liquid. It retained the same overall strength, only condensed into a more useful form.
It was a chilly day in early autumn, and the sun had just climbed above the fluffy clouds on the horizon. They passed over the northern forests of Aerdia, floating high above streams and creeks, above orange and yellow trees. The mountains weren¡¯t anywhere to be seen yet, but with the sails entirely unfurled and the wind at their stern, the journey passed quickly.
To the north, over the sloped white envelope of the Featherflight¡¯s bow, rose a shroud of smog. It stained the sky a pale yellow. No Man¡¯s Land was approaching.
¡°The advancement to Wildflame doesn¡¯t require you to hit a certain threshold of core strength,¡± said Nomad. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about integrating the Essence into your own spiritual base¡ªI reckon that¡¯s become a habit now. Just focus on how it moves, and how it illuminates your central channel. Before you can open your Inner Gates, you must first picture them in your mind.¡±
This isn¡¯t going to hurt, is it? Gray asked.
¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Pirin whispered back. He turned to Nomad and said loudly, ¡°Will it be any different for me? Now that I¡¯m an Embercore?¡±
¡°I can¡¯t say. No Embercore has ever made it as far as you have.¡±
Pirin nodded slowly. ¡°Sir¡I¡¯ve been wondering about some things. When I defeated the wizard in Vel Aerdeil¡it felt easy. Almost too easy.¡±
¡°It would have, yes.¡± Nomad picked up one of the cups and swirled it around, then set it back down on the wood of the observation platform. ¡°This past year, you¡¯ve been approaching from behind, working as hard as any wizard I¡¯ve ever seen, and catching up quickly. Then¡surpassing. There was nothing special about that Blaze you fought. You weren¡¯t a stage behind, you weren¡¯t behind in foundation timbers.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve been lucky, then,¡± Pirin muttered.
¡°Luck?¡±
¡°I mean, I have a powerful bloodline talent. I learned swordsmanship from a tutor, essentially. I stumbled into the apprenticeship of a former Unbound Lord, and¡ª¡±
¡°Pirin,¡± Nomad said, leaning forward and gripping his shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that. Think: what does your bloodline talent truly afford you?¡±
¡°The ability to see memories of the past, and to look into the memories of others.¡±
¡°You¡¯re telling me that you did no work of your own to learn the Shattered Palm, or how about on your predictive technique? Which, mind you, you didn¡¯t even need to defeat that Blaze. You¡¯re telling me that you did no work to earn my gaze? That was the entire point of my challenge to you on Dulfer¡¯s Reach.¡±
Pirin swallowed. ¡°I¡I guess.¡±
¡°Now, you have more work to do. You clearly still have something to prove to yourself, so open your Inner Gates and find out what it is.¡±
He reached out and picked up a cup of syrup, then downed it. It fizzed and popped as it trickled down his throat, and it felt cold as ice, and at the same time, like liquid fire. When it passed, it left nothing but a stain on the nearby Essence channels¡ªwhich faded in time, too, when the syrup finally flowed into his stomach.
Before even thinking about cycling the elixir or integrating it, he took up the next two cups and downed them, leaving a lump of thick, blue liquid in his stomach. It was bitter and earthy, and with each breath, he still tasted a grass-like after-flavour.
With a shudder, he tucked those thoughts away, and focussed on his spiritual system and channels.
His core and timbers still appeared in his mind as balls of condensed, swirling embers, but instead of red flame, he now envisioned blue power seeping through the cracks. It flowed into his channels and rushed around his body, lighting his channels.
With his will, he directed it toward his spine, and the central, wide channel that ran from his core up to the base of his neck.
¡°I can¡¯t observe what you¡¯re doing anymore,¡± said Nomad. ¡°But I feel the strength of your spirit radiating the same as a mortal man would. Push the power through your Center-Rhun channel¡ªas much Essence as you can¡ªand pay attention to where it slows and stalls. You¡¯ll only notice with a truly large burst of Essence.¡±
Pirin guided as much of the new, unfiltered, un-integrated Essence from the elixir as he could into his spine, channel, then blasted it upward to the base of his neck. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
His spine tingled, and his legs twitched. His arms wanted to spasm, but he held them in place. Spit gathered in his mouth, and though he couldn¡¯t say he registered pain¡he didn¡¯t really register anything. It was uncomfortable because there was nothing.
Gray squawked and fluttered, then let out a confused song. Even without his mask on, Pirin now shared a bond with her, and she shared in his sensations. ¡°Sorry, Gray,¡± he whispered, trying to keep a brave face. ¡°It¡¯ll be over soon.¡±
For a moment, he feared he¡¯d accidentally paralyzed himself, but the numbness passed, and the Essence flowed through his Center-Rhun channel as a trickle once more.
¡°Your face contorted,¡± Nomad said. ¡°I reckon you didn¡¯t achieve what you wanted.¡±
¡°Not¡yet.¡± Pirin had focussed too closely on the sensation of numbness instead of the Inner Gates. ¡°Sorry, Gray, but we¡¯ve gotta try again. One more time.¡±
Any¡anything for power. Anything! Hah! I can take it! I can keep taking it. Her eyes still had vertical slits¡ªlike the dragon wraith¡ªinstead of the standard beady black voids he was used to seeing.
¡°...Right.¡±
He sucked in a breath and pushed his Essence through other, smaller channels, guiding it back to his core.
Then he thrust it up again, pushing through his central channel. This time, he focussed deeply on the light and the blue energy.
It sprouted up through his central channel like lightning in reverse. First, it slowed a few inches above the core, funnelling through a dark, invisible blockage in the channel. If Pirin hadn¡¯t known what to look for, it probably would¡¯ve struck him as a constriction or half-open valve of some sort.
But, as it passed through, tiny filaments of spiritual energy spread into the dark material of the blockage. They illuminated it a shade of cracked blue, just like his Embercore, before slipping out and racing up the channel.
That was the blockage. Just above was a ring of pure light, awaiting an opening. Pirin couldn¡¯t force it to budge. Nothing he did made the ring expand, nothing made it shrink. It just stayed lit as long as the Essence passed through it.
So that was what Nomad had meant about illuminating them.
When the Essence passed, the ring faded again into darkness, and the ashy debris dimmed into the depth of his mind.
But now that he¡¯d illuminated it, it lingered in his conscience.
The Essence passed through six more gates, illuminating them in sequence and bringing his attention to them. All six lingered in his conscience.
He opened his eyes and shook away from the numbness, then turned to Nomad. ¡°I¡¯ve used that channel before. Why hasn¡¯t it done that? It hasn¡¯t even made me numb before, let alone illuminated the gates.¡±
¡°That¡¯s the power of fresh Essence from an elixir,¡± Nomad explained. ¡°It hasn¡¯t yet been integrated into your spirit, so it feels foreign. It¡¯s fresh and strong, and it hasn¡¯t yet merged, so it almost burns your channels.¡±
¡°So, I need the revelations to open them, then? How¡exactly do I do that?¡±
¡°The revelations all take a deeper understanding of yourself,¡± Nomad explained. ¡°You can¡¯t force them, but you can meditate on them, bring yourself closer. Much like your advancement from Catch to Flare, speaking the revelation aloud will help you trigger it and open the gate¡ªif it¡¯s the correct revelation.¡±
¡°And if not?¡±
¡°It just won¡¯t work.¡± He folded his legs beneath himself, sitting cross-legged, and reached up to pat Gray¡¯s head. She leaned into the scratches like a cat. ¡°The first revelation is your Spirit Revelation. It¡¯ll open the two bottom gates.¡±
¡°What do I need to understand?¡±
¡°When I was learning, many decades ago, they gave me three questions. What, how, and why¡ªfor each of the respective revelations. I reckon they¡¯ve changed it now in the big Dominion academies, but the point is the same. You must know what you want to accomplish, how you¡¯re going to do it, and why.¡±
Pirin rubbed his forehead. ¡°So, first one, I need to know what I want to accomplish?¡± He scratched the side of his head.
¡°Indeed. Most wizards travelled to their homeland, or a place with great significance to them growing up. Your formative years and your experiences are important for answering those questions. Thankfully, we¡¯re sailing north.¡±
¡°I wasn¡¯t born in Sirdia,¡± Pirin said. ¡°I know that much. I was born on Kerstel, far removed from the happenings of the world, sheltered but lost.¡±
Nomad clicked his tongue. ¡°That¡will complicate matters.¡±
¡°Yeah.¡±
¡°I say you rest. You took in a great deal of elixir, which you now need to process, and you still need to recover Essence from your extensive use when we took Vel Aerdeil.¡±
¡°I will. Gray, if you want, fly back to the cargo hold. I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±
On my way! She jumped off the edge of the platform, then fluttered down and around and swooped up into the cargo hold.
¡°Thanks, Nomad,¡± Pirin said, then descended from the platform. He climbed down through the airship¡¯s main body, past the gasbags and axial catwalk, where the extra Sirdian soldiers and weavlings had set up hammocks, then climbed down to the crew quarters, where Brealtod and Alyus stood. They were mending a rope that had snapped in the high winds of the previous night.
¡°Brealtod?¡± Pirin asked. ¡°Can I pick your brain about dragons again?¡±
The dragonfolk first mate hissed in affirmation.
¡°What makes dragons¡want control? Why do they take over things? Why bother with treasure troves of gold, or ancient halls?¡±
Brealtod hissed a few times again, and Pirin translated in his head: ¡°It is their nature.¡±
¡°But the Khirdian elves had contracted the dragon wraith Gray is currently bound to¡and they convinced it to guard their cavern. It had to have a reason to do that, right?¡±
¡°Dragons are stubborn but loyal. Same in many ways, it seems to your gnatsnapper,¡± Brealtod said with hisses (and Pirin translated). ¡°It is possible that they made a soul contract with it, or simply left the hall abandoned, knowing a nearby powerful wraith would take it over. It occupied your gnatsnapper out of desperation, but now, it cannot leave. It has a broken soul, and its mind doesn¡¯t function as mine or yours¡ªrather, it is just obeying its conquering nature.¡±
Pirin shut his eyes. He couldn¡¯t convince the dragon to leave rationally. No, Gray had held it back before with her own strength, but now, it was taking over. He needed to convince Gray¡¯s full consciousness to wake up and come out.
Chapter 24: Revenge [Volume 4]
Myraden rode on Kythen¡¯s back while they trotted along. She leaned forward, holding onto Kythen¡¯s mane and letting the bounce of his feet relax her. They followed the road along the bay, travelling north from Ostaloth. The days grew shorter and colder, and now, she noticed the chill, even if it wasn¡¯t unpleasant.
The previous evening, when she and the Hand had stopped to rest, they¡¯d made a campfire, and she melted the elixir gels back into liquid, then steamed them until they¡¯d lost enough volume to fit in a single tube. It was a powerful, thick syrup now, with enough power to illuminate her Inner Gates.
She didn¡¯t have time to illuminate them while sitting, but for the time being, Kythen could carry her as they travelled. That way, she didn¡¯t have to think about walking and cycling elixir at the same time.
Now, early in the morning after a night spent condensing the elixir, she held up a single tube of cool liquid to her lips and downed it.
The Hand glanced cautiously over his shoulder at her, but said nothing. Myraden shut her eyes and whispered to Kythen in ¨ªshkaben, ¡°Follow him, unless he strays far from the road. Then you can leave him.¡±
Still don¡¯t trust him? Kythen asked.
¡°You do?¡±
¡°I do have a slight inkling of what you¡¯re saying,¡± the Hand grumbled.
¡°You speak ¨ªshkaben?¡± She scowled.
¡°I picked up a few phrases here and there.¡±
It was a well-guarded language. Most sprites believed it could only be taught to another by a loved one¡ªwhether through family, brotherly comradery, or love.
¡°Your father taught me, when I fought alongside him.¡±
Brotherly comradery, then.
¡°And look where that got him,¡± Myraden muttered.
¡°Drink your elixir, and if you still feel like talking about it, then we can.¡±
She narrowed her eyes, but he was right. She pressed the tube up to her mouth and downed it all in a single breath. It had started to congeal again, and it was almost like drinking pure bacon grease. She shuddered and gagged, but held it down¡ªeven as a slimy chunk slipped down her throat, reminding her of raw fish.
She clenched her eyes, purging the sensation, then pushed the Essence to the base of the Center-Rhun channel.
Over the years, she had developed strong elixir control. Being from a wizard¡¯s family¡ªa cursebearing lord of ¨ªskan¡ªthey¡¯d known she¡¯d have magic ever since she was born. Although she didn¡¯t have a bond with an animal yet, she could still manipulate pure Essence and partially operate Lejav¨¹dkue. She just wasn¡¯t able to form a stable technique until she¡¯d bonded with Kythen.
With her practice, she was inevitably better at Essence manipulation than Pirin. She effortlessly guided her Essence up to her spine, pooled it at the base, then launched it upward, illuminating the entire channel and its seven gates and locking them in her mind¡¯s eye. Even when the Essence passed through her mind, reaching her soul at the top of her head, she recalled the gates, their positions, and how they¡¯d looked with Essence in them.
Cracked, charred walls, like ember-y wood, lodged before each gate, restricting its flow.
Her stomach dropped. Each gate had so much char and buildup that only a pinprick of Essence could flow through each. She hoped maybe pushing so much Essence through would¡¯ve opened them, dislodging the charred material, but it didn¡¯t budge. Only the resonance caused by the revelations would allow that.
It was a wonder any Essence flowed through her channels at all.
She opened her eyes.
¡°So?¡± the Hand asked. ¡°Quite a lot of buildup, I assume.¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Figured.¡±
¡°Oh, you did?¡±
¡°Of course I did,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Since I was born, I have studied to kill wizards¡ªto even the odds between us and mortals. I have studied every manuscript in the imperial library about Essence cultivation and your abilities. I know exactly how to train your kind, and I know how to fight them. But more importantly, I know where you struggle and fail. You, Myraden Leursyn, have issues you need to work out. When you see yourself clearly, you will clear your channels, but such buildup is a result of your own faults.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
She winced, then slid off Kythen¡¯s back and staggered along on her own two feet. The liquid of the elixir still sloshed in her stomach, and its spiritual energy sloshed in her core. But still, she approached. ¡°What do you know about me? I barely spoke to you last time you tried training me.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t need to know everything about you to understand why you¡¯d hit a roadblock in your advancement. I can see it. There are people of a certain type, angry at the world, angry at everyone, without a place to direct it. You are one of them.¡±
She exhaled irritatedly, then walked along in silence.
Over the past few days since escaping Ostaloth, she¡¯d changed back into her sleeveless gambeson and fastened her armour back on, but she¡¯d kept the remains of the dress in her void pendant.
It was still valuable, and as a base for further enhancements, it wasn¡¯t horrible. If she could refine it into a more suitable, combat-focussed form, she¡¯d use it. She didn¡¯t need the heat of the gambeson, nor its padding.
Whenever they stopped to rest, she used her spearhead to cut it into a more desirable shape¡ªremoving the baggy sleeves until it was more of a sleeveless turtleneck, cutting down the skirt and layering the fabric into a longer waist cape that could flow behind her trousers. She made sure not to cut any of the smoky mesh, except at the very tip, so she could vent Essence through it if needed.
But she couldn¡¯t work on it while moving. It stayed tucked away in her void pendant, safely hidden.
They walked for another week, travelling as far north as they could. Myraden¡¯s supplies, which she¡¯d filled up in Ulan-Ost, were holding steady, but they wouldn¡¯t find any place to resupply in ¨ªskan. It was a frozen tundra, and the major cities were gone.
On the eighth night of travelling, they stopped at the edge of a pine forest. It ended at a lip of stone, giving way to fields of rock, sod, and hardy grasses¡ªand nothing else. The road was slippery with sea-spray and light snowfall.
As best Myraden could tell, they were about as far north as Northvel, just on the other side of the world. Light snow dusted the ground and made the tree branches heavy, but so close to the coast, it was still warmer and wetter than inland.
She sat down on a slick rock and let her legs dangle, then looked ahead beyond the edge of the forest, and beyond the rocky plains. Hills climbed up and down along the coast, with lines of gray stone intersecting the grassy layers. A waterfall trickled down the side of a slope, then poured into the ocean with a plume of spray.
A bank of fog obscured much of the land north of the hills, but from her vantage on the tree-covered ridge, she could see slightly farther than usual. The shore curved westward with a sharp angle, and perhaps even angled slightly south again.
They were getting close to the Skuvey Strait¡ªthe narrowest point of sea between ¨ªskan and the rest of the Mainland. By the end of the day, they¡¯d arrive.
The Hand rubbed his forehead, then sat on a rock beside her. He rubbed his knee and groaned, then tossed his head back and stared up at the sky. His breath condensed into steam and plumed into a column high above.
¡°Hand?¡± she asked.
¡°Yes?¡± He kept staring up. The sky was gray and cloudy; there was nothing to see.
¡°How did my father receive his fatal wound?¡±
¡°You already know, don¡¯t you?¡±
¡°I saw his death. I do not know what caused it.¡±
¡°He was a Flare, and a late-stage one. But eventually, the Dominion sent wizards to quell our uprising. They overwhelmed him, and delivered such a wound that he could no longer keep fighting. One wizard, a Blaze, struck his spirit with a rare technique, breaking his channels and preventing his body¡¯s enhanced healing.¡±
Myraden shuddered.
¡°I told him to return to ¨ªskan. I realized what happened and what would happen. I told him to save what he could, to ride to ¨ªskan ahead of the Dominion¡¯s messengers and evacuate what sprites he could. I do not know what happened afterward; I turned myself in, and the Emperor made me pledge fealty. In return, he would spare Seisse the same fate as ¨ªskan.¡±
¡°He returned to our village shortly before the Burning began,¡± Myraden said. ¡°Harmkvord. He ordered us to climb aboard the fishing boats and sail for Sirdia. He lived until we arrived, though his condition worsened. A few days after he petitioned Chancellor Ivescent to allow the surviving sprites into Sirdia, he died.¡±
She narrowed her eyes, then swung her legs around the edge of the rock, so she faced the Hand. ¡°Why didn¡¯t the Emperor make you commit to a soul contract?¡±
¡°Mortals can¡¯t make soul contracts. It wouldn¡¯t have worked.¡± He blew a puff of air out his nose. ¡°Only reason I can help you right now.¡± He tapped the hilt of his sword. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m going to betray you?¡±
¡°I was worried that you might not have a choice.¡±
¡°There is little I can say to sway you, then.¡± He shrugged. ¡°If you and your beast don¡¯t trust me, I can¡¯t convince you easily. But you¡¯re the one who sought me out, and I agreed to train you.¡± He slid off his rock, then stepped closer. ¡°What do you want? If you can¡¯t answer that, you¡¯ll never pass your spirit revelation.¡±
¡°Revenge. I cannot deny it.¡±
¡°That¡¯s impossible.¡±
¡°Why?¡±
¡°The wizard who delivered the fatal wound to your father is dead. I killed him.¡±
Myraden scowled. ¡°Not against him. Against the Dominion. I want to destroy it.¡±
¡°A noble goal, for sure, but for non-noble reasons. If you bring down the Dominion with revenge as your only goal, you¡¯ll wind up hollow and empty.¡±
She rolled her eyes. ¡°Let us see, then. I will speak the revelation.¡± She shut her eyes, concentrated on the lit Inner Gate, and whispered, ¡°I want revenge for my father, my destroyed childhood, and my ruined life.¡±
Nothing. Not even a tingle of resonance along her spine.
Her face flushed, and when she opened her eyes, she looked down. ¡°How can that be untrue?¡±
¡°It means what you want has changed, and it¡¯s up to you to find out what it has become. You don¡¯t want to destroy the Dominion for revenge¡ªyou want to destroy it for some other end. Discover that, and accept it.¡±
She clenched her teeth and pressed her tongue into the roof of her mouth. ¡°I will think. But we should keep moving. I would like to be in ¨ªskan by the end of the day.¡±
Chapter 25: Dremfell [Volume 4]
When the Featherflight reached the Vlarioch mountains, it still wasn¡¯t a perfect path to the Dremfell Wall. They hadn¡¯t sailed directly along the pass; they needed to adjust their course and head eastward.
Every day of the journey, when Pirin wasn¡¯t flooding the sails with wind to speed up their process, he analyzed his bottom two Inner Gates and thought long and hard about his Spirit Revelation.
At first, he¡¯d considered just spouting a list of goals, hoping it would work, but the revelations didn¡¯t work like that. As Nomad had explained, ¡°The revelations require a deep, forceful push of will to trigger. I don¡¯t reckon you¡¯ll be thinking about the will at this point, but it¡¯s there. If you fail to trigger a revelation more than three times in a row, your Inner Gates will seize up, and it will take months for them to relax enough that you can try again.¡±
And Pirin couldn¡¯t do that, either. Not if he wanted to survive through the next few months.
So, instead, he hunted for miniature signs of spiritual resonance as he meditated.
What do I want?
It seemed like an easy question. What did he want? Simple¡simple¡
But every time he thought that, every time he tried to summarize it as simple, it failed. To help others. That was what he promised Mr. Regos. He¡¯d do his healer¡¯s duty and save lives, to heal.
But that wasn¡¯t why he left on this journey. It was a part of him, sure, and deep down he knew it. He felt it there, its effects lingering even if he¡¯d forgotten¡ªand restored a hollow version with the Memory Chain.
He¡¯d gone on this quest because Sirdia needed a strong wizard-king, and thus, it should¡¯ve been strength he sought after.
Again, that was only a part of the whole.
His home, then? Was it Sirdia he wanted to save? Protect the place he¡¯d learned to love?
But if he wanted just that, he¡¯d have pulled the entire army behind the Dremfell Wall and tried to weather out the siege. No, that wasn¡¯t right either, even if that¡¯s what Kal¨¦nier would¡¯ve wanted him to do.
No, Pirin wanted a combination of it all.
On the second day, in the afternoon, as they sailed high above the sharp, snow-capped peaks of the Vlarioch range, he sat on the Featherflight¡¯s observation platform. Wind blasted him from the side. Snowflakes fluttered down, stinging in the gale. Gray sheltered in the cargo hold, safe from the weather.
It was there that Pirin reached a conclusion: Unity. I want unity.
He tried it. He locked his spiritual system and Inner Gates in his mental image, and with a soft whisper, said, ¡°I want to bring unity to the Elven Continent.¡± It¡¯d stop the fighting, let them resist the Dominion, and more.
But nothing happened. The two lower gates remained shut.
One chance down. He considered waiting, but he knew he was close.
And they were almost close to Dremfell Wall. They had to be. If he couldn¡¯t achieve his revelation in time, he¡¯d be at even more of a disadvantage against the Wildflames.
He rubbed his fingers together, then rubbed his chin.
It wasn¡¯t just about unity and peace. The Dominion also wanted unity and peace, but Pirin didn¡¯t want what the Mainland had.
Besides, it was the Dominion that killed Mr. Regos. He couldn¡¯t be like them.
Something to tie it all together¡
Another bout of inspiration flowed into his mind, and without hesitation, he spoke the revelation. Not time to think about it and make it worse, or violate it somehow with indecision. ¡°I want to improve. Both myself and the world around me. I want to be the best I can be, unrestrained, and I want to make the world around me as good as it possibly can be. I want to create, I want to build, and I want to advance.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A chill ran down his spine. The top of the Center-Rhun channel blazed with heat, and the base, near his hips, surged with heat. A tone ran down the channel, an inaudible vibration. It hummed and shook his vertebrae.
Ignoring the upper five Inner Gates, it passed straight down through the walls of the channel.
But when it reached the bottom two gates, it expanded outward into the disks of energy. The arcane vibrations shattered the buildup of debris and spiritual buildup. Chunks disappeared and decayed, or faded to dust altogether. Once it faded from the channel, it didn¡¯t reappear in his senses.
That was the debris that had been created by his conflict of purpose willingness. He saw it now.
But he saw clearly.
He rose to his feet and pushed Essence through the channel. Most of the elixir¡¯s Essence had integrated into his spirit, and now, it didn¡¯t feel like a huge bump in spiritual strength, but it was something.
But when he pushed it through the central channel, he didn¡¯t have to push anywhere near as hard to make it move. At least, through the first two gates. The next still offered the same resistance as before, but there were only five of them now.
And more efficient Essence movement would almost always mean an improvement to his techniques. Less Essence wastage. Faster Essence transfer.
He shut his eyes and prepared a Shattered Palm, then launched it over the edge of the observation platform.
His Essence destabilized in one second rather than two, and with greater flow, he could either pour more Essence outward, making the area of effect broader, or he could concentrate it, improving the range and immediate harm to a designated target.
He tried launching a few, experimenting with different ways he could manipulate the Essence flow, either expanding the palm strike or concentrating it.
On the fifth strike, though, as he watched the Essence fade away into the sky and concentrated directly on it, his gaze drifted off into the distance.
A cloud of dust rolled up from the ground.
He stopped cycling and let his channels rest, then ran to the edge of the platform. The dust was rising from a broad valley in the distance¡ªalmost at the horizon.
Without reforging his body, Pirin wouldn¡¯t have been able to make out the details of the landscape around it, but now? He picked out an enormous valley pass splitting the Vlarioch range in half. Smooth slopes bore green pines, and at its very bottom was a bed of rock and gravel. A river ran through the center, but in late fall, the river barely trickled through.
The Dremfell Pass.
Pirin spun around and ran to the hatch, then descended through the ship to the gondola. ¡°Alyus?¡± he asked.
¡°Yeah, Elfy?¡±
¡°We¡¯re almost there. You see that dust?¡±
The ostal captain nodded. ¡°Indeed. Is it a problem?¡±
¡°It¡¯s an army. And I don¡¯t think they¡¯re Sirdians.¡±
Alyus grimaced, then turned to one of the Sirdian soldiers. ¡°Never been to Dremfell before. Where should I land?¡±
¡°There are platforms high up on the valley walls,¡± said the soldier. ¡°You¡¯ll see them when you arrive. We can moor the ship there.¡±
Pirin ran to the front of the gondola and leaned closer to the curved bank of windows at the front. He watched the cloud of dust¡ªkicked up by an advancing army¡ªand tapped on the glass. The edges of the distant valley pass peeled away, revealing the wall. It appeared similar to Pirin¡¯s memories, except there was only a light dusting of snow on the ground from a previous day.
The wall itself was still as raggedy and ruined as he¡¯d seen it in the Memory Chain, with damaged, crumbling sections and cobblestone patches, wood scaffolding holding up the backs of towers, and raised, tacked-on catapult platforms. Blue banners fluttered on the towers or hung on standards, and silver-armoured Sirdian elves filled the ramparts, holding bows and spears.
Beyond the wall, though, was a small city to support the soldiers of the wall. Hastily-built half-timber houses stood in an organized grid, and packed mud streets with wagon ruts ran between them.
Today, there were no wagons¡ªonly weavelings in their golden armour, packed together on the ground. They wielded tower shields and spears, ready to fight off invaders who breached the wall.
¡°Skell, Ebb?¡± Pirin asked, calling to the two Weaveling middle-marshals who stood near the back of the gondola. ¡°I need you to go to the ground and reassure your brothers. We¡¯re here to help, and I¡¯ll hold off the wizards as best as I can. If we can break their army here, then we won¡¯t have to worry about an invasion of Sirdia.¡± He turned to Alyus. ¡°Keep the sails open, if you can.¡±
¡°Are you expecting a retreat?¡± Alyus asked.
¡°He is wiser to,¡± Nomad stated. ¡°I don¡¯t reckon our defense will last, regardless of the Sirdians¡¯ confidence.¡±
¡°Speaking of which,¡± Pirin said. ¡°Nomad, I need you to stay aboard the Featherflight. It¡¯ll be too dangerous down there, and I still need your instruction. For the greater good, I need you to stay out of harm¡¯s way.¡±
¡°Of course,¡± Nomad said. ¡°I¡¯m not under any illusion that I can sway the outcome of this battle. But, at your stage, neither should you be.¡±
Pirin grimaced. ¡°I have to try. We can¡¯t give up.¡± As he spoke, a squadron of black specks emerged from the cloud of dust. Dominion Rockwings. For the moment, they only circled about, protecting the army below, but some carried bombs. They were going to attack the wall with explosives too.
The ground of the pass seethed with white and green¡ªDominion foot soldiers. Their conscripts marched at the head of the army, pushing siege towers and carrying shields. Behind them marched heavily-armoured ostal in reserve.
¡°Alyus, can you take us around the back of the wall and keep well away from that army?¡± Pirin asked, leaning closer to the glass and willing the airship to fly faster.
But he didn¡¯t need to will it. He could force it.
¡°I¡¯ll get us around the back, Elfy, but it¡¯s up to you to keep the wind at our stern.¡±
Pirin nodded, then said, ¡°I¡¯ll get Gray. Give me one moment.¡±
Chapter 26: Bone Wraith [Volume 4]
When Myraden and the Hand reached the banks of the Skuvey Strait, she sensed a presence approaching. It was distant, perhaps a few miles away still, but it was undeniable. Her spiritual senses were best tuned for observing and handling danger. If they sensed something from such a distance, it was because it potentially posed a threat.
It wasn¡¯t a Flare; it was too stable in her senses. A flare at a few miles might leave an impression, but not a stable, continuous push. A Blaze might, but even then, it was a long shot.
¡°Hand,¡± she whispered. ¡°Get on Kythen. We have an Unbound Lord chasing us.¡±
They had been walking along the gravel shore of Greatsaad¡¯s northern coast, but now, she sped up. To the left, rocky hills rose up, with peat and lime green plants growing on ridges. To the right, open ocean glimmering in the evening light. A few miles away, the dark ridges of Iskan''s shoreline hid the horizon. The afternoon sun had burned away the fog, and now she could see it much clearer. Even without enhanced eyesight, a normal man could''ve seen it.
The Hand swung up onto Kythen¡¯s back. "A Wildflame?"
"I sense it." She glanced to the left, in the direction the spiritual presence was emanating from. ¡°Unless you want to stay and fight?¡±
"No point. If we move quickly, we can still cross the ¨ªskan bridge and hide in Ravi before the Wildflame catches us.¡±
¡°You trust my judgement?¡±
¡°If you¡¯re wrong, we lose nothing but breath. If you¡¯re right and we do nothing, we risk a confrontation we aren¡¯t ready for.¡±
She nodded, then activated her Tundra Veins. Kythen did as well, and the both of them took off down the shoreline, sprinting away from the looming presence.
With each step she took, the presence strengthened in the back of her mind. Perhaps the Unbound Lord sensed her using techniques and realized she was trying to escape. No doubt, whoever it was could outpace her.
How do you know it¡¯s an Unbound Lord? Kythen asked.
¡°Are there any other Wildflames?¡± It was a rhetorical question for Kythen.
Still, the Hand said, ¡°Aside from Nomad, I didn¡¯t know of any. That doesn¡¯t mean there are none, though.¡±
¡°Chances are, he is one of Lady Neria¡¯s,¡± said Myraden in Low-Speech. ¡°If he has recovered from Nomad¡¯s attack.¡±
But they just had to reach the bridge.
The shoreline mountains peeled away as the shore curved, and as ¨ªskan¡¯s landmass angled closer to the Mainland, narrowing the Skuvey Strait. Ahead, the Greatsaadan road curved toward a precipice of rock hanging over the ocean, which an ancient bridge connected to.
The ¨ªskan bridge was a massive structure of weathered sandstone. Wind and water had eroded its once-ornate facades into a mile-long expanse of plain arches bulwarks, and patina made its bricks look like they had more definition than they actually had.
She sprinted down the path, her boots skittering on the icy mud and cobblestones. When she reached the edge of the bridge, she nearly lost her footing as she turned onto it and sprinted across. The pressure of the Wildflame built behind them, turning into a pulse in her channels. He wasn¡¯t veiling himself at all.
¡°Hand? Can you survive his full presence and spiritual weight?¡±
The Red Hand scoffed. ¡°Of course. A mortal spirit can take it with careful training, even though most don¡¯t know how. Exposure therapy, and¡ª¡±
¡°I do not need to know how!¡±
She darted across the ¨ªskan bridge, feet slipping on the icy surface. She began falling forward, and forced herself to speed up to accommodate for it. Kythen¡¯s hooves gripped the slippery surface expertly, cleft toes digging into the ice like picks.
The sky turned rusty pink, framing the coast of ¨ªskan ahead of her. It began as a set of glacier-scoured tidepools, with summer moss and grass growing in between, but quickly sloped upward into smooth, sloping hills of stone. For some, it might have seemed an alien landscape, with the glassy, weathered rocks and patches of snow, but the distant mountains and autumn tundra was her home.
As she neared the other side of the bridge, she passed the charred remains of a cart. The wind had swept it up against the bulwark at the side of the bridge, and the bones of the ox that¡¯d pulled the cart heaped in a pile before it.
It¡¯d only been ten years ago, but most of the carnage on the ¨ªskan bridge was gone. But the charred husk of Ravi, the Bridge City, remained. It was a trading town, and though the shore here wasn¡¯t conducive to a port, plenty of goods had once flowed across the bridge from the Mainland and back. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
Buildings began halfway across the bridge, climbing up the sides and forming tall walls around it. Shattered windows stared at her like gouged out eyes, and crispy clotheslines draped from one side of the bridge to the other. The upper levels were entirely black, and most structures had crumbled, leaving only a graveyard of supporting timbers, cobblestone first floors, and fallen peat roofs.
The city didn¡¯t just span the bridge, though. In its prime, before the Burning, it¡¯d probably hosted a hundred thousand northern sprites, and they¡¯d lived in a complex of structures along the coast. Streets ran up and down the rocky shore, and houses¡¯ skeletons clung to the edge of a cobblestone retaining wall.
¡°Hide in the ruins of the city!¡± the Hand called. ¡°Some place that he won¡¯t see us from above! Then veil your spirit.¡±
¡°I cannot veil myself and run at the same time!¡±
¡°Then you better hope we had enough of a lead that he isn¡¯t able to pin us down before we find a spot.¡±
At that, Myraden pushed herself even faster. Buildings whirled past. The bridge ended, depositing her onto a gravel street. Her boots gained proper traction once more, and she turned onto a thoroughfare, dodging the wreckage of market stalls. Sprite skeletons still lay in the streets where they were slain, their bones picked clean long ago.
But the main thoroughfare would be too obvious. As soon as they were a few streets inland, away from the coast, she and Kythen turned into an alley. A lattice still hung overhead, once hosting hardy winter vines, now bare. Not good enough.
She kicked in a charred door on one side of the alley, then dove into the house beyond. A stairway descended down into a cellar. The interior reeked of ash, but the timbers supporting the ceiling were only slightly blackened. The three skeletons in the corner hadn¡¯t died from the flames, but by sword wounds¡ªeven without guessing, their bones were shattered and broken, and some of their ribs had been slashed in regular patterns.
Myraden gagged at the stench¡ªdecay and decomposition that hadn¡¯t tasted fresh air for a decade¡ªand nearly threw up, but she held it in.
Kythen barely fit through the opening, and the Hand jumped off his back to enter.
They both deactivated their techniques, and Myraden held her breath, stopping her Essence from moving. Even the Hand took short, small breaths, suppressing his small, mortal spirit.
¡°How long do we wait?¡± Myraden whispered.
¡°Until you cannot sense him anymore,¡± replied the Hand. ¡°While you use a veil, your senses will be diminished, so we¡¯ll have to be cautious. If you keep veiled once we leave, he won¡¯t sense us anymore.¡±
¡°What if he tries to wait us out?¡±
¡°He won¡¯t.¡±
¡°How can you be certain?¡±
The Hand chuckled. ¡°We are dealing with Lord Two. Lady Neria wouldn¡¯t have sent Lord Three after us; she¡¯d keep the Lord she trusts closer to herself. And Lord Two is jumpy. The moment he senses something to the north¡ªbe it a wraith or a horde of bloodhorns, he¡¯ll go running off after it, thinking it¡¯s us.¡±
¡°Then we will have time to escape.¡± Myraden wanted to exhale forcefully, but she restrained herself, maintaining the veil. She slumped down against one of the cellar walls¡ªin a gap between two shelves of charred barrels. ¡°You are almost always reasoning your way out of situations. How come you were not able to reason your way out of imperial servitude?¡±
He raised his eyebrows. In the dim light pouring through the cellar door, she barely noticed. ¡°You assume I was always like this? No, Myraden, you must realize: my uprising was the unreasonable action. Me entering imperial servitude seemed¡more reasonable.¡±
¡°Seemed?¡±
¡°Yes, seemed. I can¡¯t say for certain. Young Lord Kovar would have disagreed deeply with the decision.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Everything a cold calculation, striving to maximize every aspect of my life and service. I hoped it would bring me peace.¡±
¡°That does not seem like something you would say.¡±
¡°Nomad and I spoke when you raided the Aremir estate. He¡reminded me of something I had lost.¡±
¡°Your soul?¡±
¡°To put it bluntly, yes, though it didn¡¯t feel like it. Then, when the Emperor threw me out, everything became empty and meaningless. I don¡¯t know if I will ever have peace, nor if I¡¯d deserve it if I found it. Finding peace, Myraden, is different from actually accepting it.¡±
¡°When we defeat the Dominion¡ª¡±
¡°Will you have peace when the Dominion crumbles? When the Unbound Lords die, and Neria lacks any strength to hold together her empire, will you have peace because you saw it all crumble?¡±
Myraden pursed her lips and shook her head. ¡°I do not know, Hand. I cannot tell you.¡±
¡°Only one part of that sentence is right. You do know, you just don¡¯t want to say.¡±
They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Myraden kept close watch on her senses, monitoring to feel Lord Two¡¯s presence. It stayed completely steady for a few minutes as he passed up and down the street. Essence levels fluctuated as he used a technique to lift himself off the ground and hover, and dropped again as he disappeared deeper into the city.
As his presence receded, a new point of warning sprouted in Myraden¡¯s contained senses. It was an acute point of danger right to her side, and everything within screamed at her to move. She almost gasped and broke her veil, but restrained herself, and instead, dove forward across the floor of the cellar.
A whip of enamel and rot smashed into the alcove she¡¯d been standing in, ripping up the bricks and creating a plume of stone. A tornado of bone shards, clothing scraps, and rotten antler pieces swirled out from a crack in the wall, then surged toward her.
First, Kythen head-butted it, scattering a chunk of its form.
A bone-wraith. It was only a low Flare equivalent, and that was probably why she hadn¡¯t sensed it, but it still would¡¯ve done damage. Without taking a deep breath, she picked up a length of timber and swatted the side of the beast¡¯s form, taking out another chunk of it.
Finally, the Hand drew his sword and, manifesting Reign, sliced the wraith in half. It didn¡¯t reform. He¡¯d slashed right through its spiritual form, through the fabric of its existence, and in the eyes of the Eane, it no longer existed as alive.
Myraden fell to a crouch, then glanced at him.
¡°We must be careful,¡± he said. ¡°This is a cursed place, and we¡¯ll find many terrifying beasts that have emerged since the Burning. Keep your wits about you.¡±
Chapter 27: Plans [Volume 4]
Pirin and Gray circled around above the Featherflight. Pirin, with his mask on, used gnatsnapper Essence to manipulate the currents of wind and keep the airship moving, even as it took a circular route around the valley to approach the wall from the north and keep out of danger.
The battle hadn¡¯t started yet. The Dominion army was approaching under the midday sun, right in broad daylight, and they¡¯d reach the wall within the hour. Their plume of dust would¡¯ve been visible from the wall for a while, and the soldiers on it should be able to see the approaching army now, too.
But that didn¡¯t mean Pirin had to throw the Featherflight right into danger.
Near the top of the valley, hollowed-out caverns hosted bird hangars. They were a half-mile north of the wall itself, too, and scattered across the forested slopes as if somehow, the trees would hide the yawning mouths of stone and wooden landing platforms hanging over the slope.
Each one of the platforms was large enough to give a regular gnatsnapper enough of a runway to take off. It¡¯d be large enough to hold the Featherflight.
The Featherflight passed over the mountain peaks at the edge of the pass, and Pirin imagined the ballonets constricting. The entire vessel dipped and circled toward the nearest landing platform. Pirin helped push the ship down, and then helped slow it as it approached the platform. But, when the vessel was close to the surface and any wrong movement could result in destruction, he stopped and let Alyus and Brealtod land normally.
They hooked the ship to a platform and pulled it down, then tied extra mooring lines to the bollards at the platform¡¯s edge.
A troop of Sirdian riders ran out the cave opening, wearing their light riding armour and carrying longbows. ¡°What are you doing?¡± one yelled. ¡°You can¡¯t block this launching strip right before a battle!¡±
Pirin circled down and landed Gray in front of them, then jumped out from the saddle. He pushed his hair away from his ears, and hoped they¡¯d know who he was right away.
The riders all backed away, and after a few seconds, a few bowed.
¡°Cut the pleasantries,¡± Pirin said. ¡°We need this landing platform for the airship. You can launch around it when the time comes.¡±
¡°Y¡ªyes¡my lord?¡± one rider said, tilting his head. A confused expression gripped his face.
¡°Where is your commander?¡± Pirin asked.
¡°The Gatemaster will be¡making commands from the Fell Tower, sir,¡± a different rider said. ¡°She ordered us to all prepare for battle.¡±
¡°Do¡do you think we can hold them off?¡± a third rider asked. ¡°You¡¯re a wizard, aren¡¯t you? You can fight them off.¡±
Pirin swallowed. ¡°I think we have to try. This is the best chokepoint we¡¯ll ever get, and we have to take as many of them with us as we can.¡±
Nomad was the first to step out of the Featherflight¡¯s gondola. As soon as Pirin saw the man, he told the pilots, ¡°Now, I need you to do your part as well. Make your final preparations, and get your squadrons in the best fighting condition possible. Understood?¡±
¡°Yes, sir!¡± The group ran back inside their hangar, to the torch-lit chamber of bird-riders and archers.
Pirin turned to Nomad. ¡°Sir¡ª¡±
¡°Pirin, we need to talk.¡±
¡°Yeah, I was going to say.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not optimistic about our odds at Dremfell, and¡if we fail here, if you die, then Sirdia is lost for certain.¡±
Pirin rubbed the bridge of his nose. If he¡¯d had his old eyeglasses, he¡¯d have adjusted them and pushed them up, but no more. ¡°What are you suggesting? That we should just abandon the wall and let them into the nation? That¡we should sacrifice thousands of lives just for victory? We have to try!¡±
¡°I reckon that¡¯s too cold, no.¡± Nomad shook his head. ¡°We must evacuate the wall, and prepare the army to retreat.¡±
¡°To where?¡±
¡°Northvel. It¡¯s not a perfect bastion, but it¡¯ll be their next target. There¡¯s room for extra civilians, and it can survive a siege for longer than a simple, straight wall.¡±
Pirin nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll speak to this Gatemaster. But even if we retreat to Northvel, I worry it won¡¯t last long against the Unbound.¡± He exhaled and tightened his fists. It was an impossible bargain, but he knew he had to do something. ¡°We¡¯ll use Dremfell to hold them off long enough to begin an evacuation. Then, once the army is in full and effective retreat, and once we¡¯ve quelled their rockwing squadrons, I¡¯ll leave. I¡¯ll draw the Unbound away.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
¡°Leave?¡±
¡°I¡¯ll travel to Kerstel. Northvel needs to hold until I return, though.¡±
Nomad nodded. ¡°I appreciate the thought.¡±
¡°Is there a problem?¡±
He smiled. ¡°No. I simply¡wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d see the day where my mistakes were beginning to remedy themselves.¡±
¡°Remedy themselves?¡± Pirin shook his head. ¡°We¡¯re fixing them. One step at a time. Now¡I¡¯m going to the tower. We need to organize the defences and make a plan.¡±
¡°Wait,¡± Nomad said. He reached out, holding G?ttrur in his hands. The tiny crystal fox was awake, now, and it scampered down Nomad¡¯s arm, then jumped into Pirin¡¯s hands. ¡°You¡¯ll need him if you want to keep the defenses steady.¡±
¡°I¡will?¡±
¡°Battle meditation, Pirin. You did it once before, and you can do it again. It might be a larger scale, but they need you. Besides, you¡¯re more powerful now.¡±
Pirin tucked G?ttrur into his haversack and left it unbuttoned so the friendly wraith could peer out through the crack.
He hopped back into Gray¡¯s saddle, then urged her to the edge of the launch platform. With a flutter, she took off, racing toward the Dremfell Wall and the city behind it. Specifically, he targeted the city¡¯s only tower.
It was a spire of old beige stone just behind the wall, reaching up a few hundred feet over the main wall. Fins of old stone reached out the side of the tower¡¯s angular walls, making it look wider than it actually was, and near the top, they reached up higher than the main structure, giving it the appearance of a crown.
To get into the tower, Pirin could either land at the surface, but the streets and plazas around the tower¡¯s base had weavelings packed into every inch of them. Instead, he flew to the thin bridge between the wall and the tower, then dismounted and ran inside. Gray would¡¯ve joined him if she could fit through the tower¡¯s door, but as it was, Pirin had to duck to slip through.
Two guards intercepted him when he was inside¡ªuntil they saw his armour and hair, and acknowledged him with a ¡°My lord.¡± They backed away.
¡°Where is the Gatemaster?¡± Pirin asked.
They pointed up the stairs.
A spiral staircase ran up the center of the tower, and Pirin took the steps two at a time. He passed small, central rooms. Whenever he passed an outward-facing window, he stared out at the army beyond. The wave of soldiers was getting closer, advancing steadily, but it was almost a snail¡¯s pace. Why couldn¡¯t they just arrive and be done with it, sprint to the wall, and let everything begin.
Or just turn away. That would be nice, too. But it was never happening.
When Pirin reached the top of the staircase, he arrived in a small, low-ceilinged room with a table at the center and a lantern hanging from the roof, compensating for the meagre natural light that slipped through the south-facing window slits.
An elven woman stood behind the table, with a Sirdian marshal and two weaveling middle-marshals around it.
¡°Gatemaster?¡± Pirin asked, turning toward the elven woman. She wore a simple administrator¡¯s robe¡ªwhite with blue embroidery¡ªand carried a short sword at her hip. ¡°You are the Gatemaster, right?¡±
He didn¡¯t have time to inform himself about the term, or its roles, but he assumed she was the commander of this city, the organizer of its defences.
¡°My lord,¡± she said. ¡°I am Gatemaster Nelmay, lord of this city. I¡¯ve defended it before, and I will defend it again¡ªno matter how many conscripts they throw at us. The wall can take it.¡± Her long brown hair was going gray with age, but her face still held inklings of former, tough pride, and a battle scar left a notch in her chin.
At least she wasn¡¯t all talk.
¡°Right. I see you¡¯ve already prepared the defences.¡± Pirin walked to the front-facing windows and looked down over the wall and the weaveling army. ¡°Is that everything you have in the city?¡±
¡°It looks like less from up here,¡± Nelmay said. She rushed closer to him, then whispered, ¡°Is it true that you recruited those weavelings, my lord?¡±
¡°Yeah.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t trust them.¡±
¡°You don¡¯t have to. I do. They¡¯ll fight for us, because for them, this is just as much about their own existence as ours. If Neria wins, she¡¯ll lord over all the North, and there will be no safe place for her former slave army.¡±
¡°But¡how? How¡¯d you recruit them? It must be some trick, some horrid soul contract. You bound yourself to a spirit beast, perhaps, or got some other wizard to help you? Do you have an Aerdian accomplice? An Embercore couldn¡¯t have done this!¡±
Pirin scowled, then turned back toward her. There was no point in arguing with her. She wasn¡¯t a wizard, just a mortal noblewoman¡ªbattle scarred or not. He didn¡¯t have to justify his strength, and ruling with his power as the only justification wasn¡¯t supposed to be his plan. ¡°If I give you a command, would you accept it, then?¡±
Nelmay swallowed, then scowled. She glanced at her marshal, who nodded, then at the two weavelings who remained stoic. Finally, she said, ¡°My lord, you are an Embercore, and with all due respect, your combat experience is best deferred to those who know what they¡¯re doing. All the kings of Khirdia used marshals for smaller engagements, because they couldn¡¯t be everywhere at¡ª¡±
¡°How highly do you value this wall?¡±
¡°Pardon?¡±
¡°If I ordered you to evacuate in the best interests of my people and the army, to regroup at Northvel, and to make our final stand there, would you?¡± He let his spirit swell, pushed a pulse of pressure through it. The weavelings stared at him, the marshal backed away and bowed.
Nelmay tried to look up once more in defiance. ¡°This wall has never fallen, and it won¡¯t under my watch! It would be a horrible dishonour.¡±
Pirin cycled a full burst of Essence, letting his Blaze power flow through his channels and up the two open Gates in his central channel.
¡°Gatemaster, for the good of this nation, and this continent as a whole, I order you to evacuate. The plan is this: you will send your fastest riders across the Sirdian countryside. Stop in every city without a wall, and spread the word: civilians are to evacuate to the nearest foritfied city, and if there is none within a three-days¡¯ walk, they must retreat to Northvel. All cities are to send whatever army they can spare to Northvel.¡±
The Sirdian marshal pulled across a sheet of parchment and wrote Pirin¡¯s orders down, but the Gatemaster still stared intently at him. He didn¡¯t want to use the Whisper Hitch, but if he had to make this easier?
¡°My lord, if you abandon the wall, your retreating army will get annihilated on the way to Northvel. Their riders will catch us, and without fortifications, we¡¯ll be powerless against them.¡±
¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re going to use Dremfell to buy time. I¡¯ll lead the squadrons out and annihilate their air-army, and you¡¯ll hold the wall as long as you can. Then, I¡¯ll distract the wizards. At noon tomorrow, retreat with everyone you have left and make for Northvel.¡±
Chapter 28: Survivors [Volume 4]
Myraden kicked through the remains of the bone wraith, making sure it wouldn¡¯t spring back up and attack her.
The Hand had destroyed it with ease, and with just Reign. Pirin already had Reign, and the Unbound had to have a touch of it, too. She was falling behind, and she couldn¡¯t have that. ¡°Hand,¡± she whispered. ¡°Can you teach me to use Reign consistently?¡±
¡°Have you used it before?¡±
¡°Once. To defeat Khara. It wasn¡¯t stable or steady like Pirin¡¯s. He¡used a Reign gem to help him manifest his. But I haven¡¯t used mine again.¡±
¡°If you¡¯re willing to learn, then I will teach you.¡±
¡°I am willing. Does it break a veil?¡±
¡°Using a veil is the best way to practice your Reign, especially as an advanced wizard,¡± he said. ¡°It won¡¯t let you use any other techniques.¡± He tapped the hilt of his sword, dirty fingernails clacking against metal. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no better time to practice, but keep your senses out for Lord Two.¡±
¡°I will,¡± she assured him.
¡°When you use Reign,¡± the Hand explained, ¡°you¡¯re using your will to push directly against the Eane. Anyone can do it, though wizards are better attuned to it, as they¡¯re used to using willpower to manipulate Essence, used to the formations and the push and pull of the Eane. But now, you must bypass your Essence. A spear stabs. The world knows it, and it has its purpose. You must know that.¡±
¡°I have done more than just stab with Lejav¨¹dkue. And it is not just a spear.¡±
The Hand snorted. ¡°Precisely. It¡¯s a family heirloom. Your father wielded it, correct?¡±
¡°Correct. But that was not what I meant. I can transform it into a rope-dart, or slash and spin with it like a glaive.¡±
¡°But you still think of it as a spear, and a spear is still best suited for stabbing. Only this time, you aren¡¯t stabbing a physical target. You¡¯re piercing the world, slicing through air itself, and striking a target with absolute perfection.¡±
She shut her eyes, then tugged her spear out from her void pendant. She ran her hand down the pale blue fabric of the haft, then flicked the spearhead. ¡°This has been in the Leursyn family for centuries.¡±
¡°That makes it the perfect weapon to form Reign with.¡± The Hand drew his own sword again and slashed the cellar wall. A normal sword would¡¯ve bounced off the cobblestones, but the Hand¡¯s blade, despite only being steel, slashed through. It left a cold gash, a black yawning void with glass-smooth edges.
¡°Now you,¡± he said. ¡°Stab a hole in the wall. Don¡¯t just think about doing, know you can do it. Manifest your Reign into reality, demonstrate the peak of your ability with a spear, and pierce stone.¡±
There was no safety net. Myraden couldn¡¯t manifest Essence along the haft and spearhead, otherwise she¡¯d give them away¡ªbut that meant her spearhead was just plain steel, ripe for shattering, bending, and breaking.
If she didn¡¯t pierce the wall, she¡¯d damage a family heirloom.
Not allowing herself time to think about it, she lashed out, stabbing at the wall with a well-practiced technique.
But she stopped herself before she struck, pulling back and removing strength from the blow. The spear¡¯s tip tapped against the grout between two cobblestones, harmlessly shaving off a layer of dust and char, but nothing more.
The Hand said, ¡°Is that truly all you can muster?¡±
¡°No. I could pierce that wall without Reign if I just had my techniques, if I just had the ability to strengthen my spear and keep it safe.¡±
¡°But you don¡¯t. Try again.¡±
She tried twice more to the same effect.
¡°I cannot do it. By all I know, plain steel shouldn¡¯t cut through stone. I wish there¡was just a magic solution. It never works easily for me. It never¡goes well. It always feels like I am working twice as hard as everyone else, and yet I have little to show for it.¡±
Kythen bleated and plodded over, then nudged her. Myraden, I sense frustration. But remember, the exact same thing happened when you were simply learning to speak with me. You couldn¡¯t do it, until finally, you let your guard down, let yourself go, and just allowed yourself to believe in what didn¡¯t seem possible.
¡°You want a solution to a magical problem, yet somehow, you refuse to acknowledge the impossible achievements Essence and magic makes possible?¡± The Hand shook his head. ¡°No, Myraden. Reign is the most natural of all forms of magic.¡± He turned his sword over, pressing its tip against the floor. ¡°Do you know what the Eane is?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°Currents of Ichor flow in enormous channels beneath the surface, creating a field of arcane power that spreads up to the surface. Wizards are those attuned to draw it in¡ª¡±
¡°Yes, says the textbooks your tutors gave you when you were a low-level lady in ¨ªskan. But that¡¯s only the basest, mechanical truth of it. That may be how it works, but that¡¯s not what it is. Myraden, the Ichor flows through channels. It is the Essence of the world, and the world lives. The world draws in the Eane with its ichor, turns it into a field, a mesh over everything. But it doesn¡¯t create the Eane.¡±
¡°What does?¡±
¡°Nothing. The Eane is the Great Way, the universal law, the base of all existence. The one true Path, which all must comprehend to a greater extent if they are to advance to Wildflame.¡±
¡°But I can¡stab it?¡±
¡°You can push against it, severing it or bending it. You break the mesh, allowing yourself to cut anything defined by it.¡± He tilted his head toward the crack in the wall where the bone wraith had emerged earlier. ¡°Now, try again.¡±
¡°I¡ª¡±
Another wraith slithered out from the crack in the wall, this time, taking the shape of a small, shifting wolf. It had a strong form; it was near the peak of Flare. A strong wraith, no doubt attracted to the scent of a living being. Again, its form was enamel-white, with shards of bone sticking up along its back like a lizard¡¯s spine. Old sprite ribs made up its body, and rotten marrow gave its body and face definition.
It opened its mouth, revealing a maw of whirling, upside-down sprite teeth¡ªno fangs, but it¡¯d tear flesh apart nonetheless.
And she couldn¡¯t use any techniques.
¡°I will not help you,¡± said the Hand. ¡°Use your Reign.¡± He backed away and slipped into the shadows on the opposite side of the room, hiding from the wraith and making himself less intimidating. It¡¯d target Myraden first.
Myraden and Kythen stepped back into the center of the cellar, and the wraith prowled toward her. It was almost her height when it held its head up, and it took up a quarter of the room¡¯s length from its head to tail.
It lunged at her, and she leaned to the side, then swatted back with a normal blow from her spear. Without fueling her enhanced body, nothing happened. The blow glanced off and slid to the side. It was tougher and stronger than she was¡ªat the moment, she was just a regular, normal sprite.
But then again, so was the Hand. He¡¯d have dealt with this foe with ease.
Myraden, Kythen said. I can try to help you, but I won¡¯t accomplish much without cycling and giving us away.
Reign. Reign.
She had to pierce the wraith¡¯s form. It was a part of the Eane, held together by an invisible mesh. She could stab that mesh.
She unleashed a set of jabs, but each accomplished nothing¡ªexcept severing a few stray chunks of whirling bone. The wolf snapped and snarled, biting at her and trying to rip her head from her shoulders, but she ducked away. Her combat training didn¡¯t just disappear with her Essence.
She drove the wolf back with her swipes, but still nothing pierced through. Not enough to deal lasting damage.
Use what you know about spears, Kythen asserted. You saw your father use it. What did he do?
He didn¡¯t have Reign.
No, but he was working toward it.
He always started a fight with a jab. He had instructed her to do so as well if she could. It¡¯d put her mind in the right place, he said, get her ready to use the spear as intended, execute her patterns, and recall her training.
Just keep stabbing.
She lunged and stabbed, once, then twice, then thrice. The wraith slashed her shoulder, and a shard of bone scraped her thigh, but she ignored it. She could patch them up later, heal with her enhanced body, and it wouldn¡¯t matter.
But she wasn¡¯t getting anywhere. Frustration built and mounted. She was going to fail, and she¡¯d never have Reign controllably. Pirin would advance well ahead of her, or worse, he¡¯d die and leave her all alone. She wouldn¡¯t be able to help.
No.
She¡¯d pierce her home¡¯s enemies. Her new home¡ªSirdia.
She lunged and shouted, then pressed the spear forward with as much force as she could muster. It pierced through the wraith¡¯s chest, then through its spine, and pinned it to the wall. Halfway through the thrust, her spear slid in with ease, no longer pushing bone chunks aside but slicing them. Slicing the form and aura that held the wraith together.
The beast collapsed and crumbled into a pile of bones and dust¡ªall because of a single destructive jab.
When the bones fell away, she let go of her spear, but it stayed in place. The head sank a foot into the stone of the wall, having penetrated straight into its form.
¡°And there you go,¡± said the Hand. ¡°Lock onto that feeling, and keep practicing that. Do you still sense Lord Two?¡±
Myraden hadn¡¯t been paying attention as she fought, but now, she couldn¡¯t sense anything. Not even a tingle at the base of her skull alerting her to a potential foe.
¡°He is gone. I do not¡ª¡± Myraden cut herself off. ¡°No. Two forms, drawing near.¡±
She ripped her spear out of the wall, then whirled it toward the doorway to the cellar¡ªup the set of stairs, silhouetted in the fading light of the day.
Two sprites crept into view, holding crude spears and wearing tattered, ash-smeared rags. Survivors, scavengers, something. Of course, the Dominion¡¯s purge couldn¡¯t have been completely perfect.
They muttered to each other, speaking ¨ªshkaben. Finally, one said louder, ¡°Who are you, who killed the Gorgoren?¡± That, too, they spoke in ¨ªshkaben.
Myraden lifted her spear, then took a cautious step toward them. They must have seen her kill the wraiths.
¡°I am Myraden Leurysn,¡± she said. ¡°And this is my Familiar, Kythen. Back there is my teacher. Who are you?¡±
Chapter 29: The Siege Begins
¡°Any objections?¡± Pirin stared directly at the Gatemaster, the marshal, and the two weavelings. ¡°Will you carry out my plan?¡±
Gatemaster Nelmay opened her mouth, as if about to argue once more with him, but Pirin quickly said, ¡°This isn¡¯t about honour, my lady. This is about survival. If you give up here, you¡¯ll be dooming the North to an age of submission.¡±
¡°Why should I take orders from an Embercore king?¡± she snapped. ¡°How do we even know you¡¯re the true king? The throne hasn¡¯t bloomed, and we¡¯re worse off than ever. Now, he asks us to abandon our best fortification¡for what? For time? No, we need more men! We need to hold the wall. Weavelings? You were sent here under my command, not his. Detain him!¡±
¡°If you listen to me,¡± Pirin said to the weaveling middle-marshals in particular, ¡°you¡¯ll have the opportunity to save yourselves and your kind. Your people will live on, too.¡±
Neither of the weavelings moved against Pirin.
¡°Fine!¡± the gatemaster exclaimed. She drew her own sword. ¡°An Embercore, huh? This is your last chance.¡±
Pirin shook his head, then activated the fracturenet. With three steps, he crossed the room. To Nelmay¡¯s mortal eyes, he would¡¯ve blurred across the room, only to appear behind her. No time to waste. He struck her on the top of the head with the pommel of his sword, and she crumpled, unconscious.
He turned to the Sirdian marshal. ¡°Are you with me, or with her?¡±
Pirin had probably seen the marshal before. Probably met the marshal before, even if he didn¡¯t remember.
Now, the marshal only gaped, staring at Pirin and the strength Pirin had mustered.
¡°I¡¯m with you, my lord,¡± the marshal said, bowing his head. ¡°I will send out your orders.¡±
¡°Very good.¡± Pirin nodded. ¡°Alert everyone on the wall to the new plan, but proceed with your defence as planned¡ªuntil it¡¯s time to retreat.¡±
One weaveling raised a hand, then tapped the table and motioned to a sheet of parchment. He was about to write, but Pirin said, ¡°You can speak to me. I¡I¡¯ve learned bits of your language as best as I can.¡±
The weaveling unleashed a stream of clicks and rustles that roughly translated to: ¡°You¡¯ll need someone to stall the Dominion while the defenders retreat from the wall. There are many of us who¡who don¡¯t have anything to do after this war. We are willing to give in order to destroy Lady Neria. There are enough us who hate her enough to sacrifice to see her destroyed. By your word, I would rally them and prepare a rear guard. We will cover your retreat.¡±
¡°I understand,¡± Pirin said in Low Speech. ¡°Gladly, I accept your sacrifice and your choice.¡±
The weavelings both nodded and rose to their feet, and they followed Pirin as he descended down the tower. He ran down the stairs until he reached the entrance, then ran across the bridge to the main wall.
The ramparts were wide enough to fit four rows of elven archers and footmen front to back. At the front, tall stone merlons protected the soldiers, and raised platforms hosted trebuchets, flak catapults, and repeating crossbows. Shorter, wider towers surrounded the wall¡¯s main gate¡ªa pair of thick wooden doors¡ªand different sections of the wall jutted out, giving archers better angles to fire from.
Nelmay had been right¡ªpartly. It was an excellent fortification. But against the Dominion, what they needed most was time. Maybe if Ivescent had sent all the extra weavelings to Dremfell, they¡¯d have enough to hold the Dominion back for longer, but now, it worked somewhat in their favour.
As much as it could.
Pirin walked down a central aisle between the defending soldiers. By now, the approaching army was only a quarter-mile away. Siege towers pushed to the front of the ranks, then travelled the conscript horde, then behind them, trebuchets and heavier siege weaponry of the Dominion. High above, birds whirled about, ready to drop down once the defenders were distracted.
Everyone on the wall was silent, except for messengers, delivering Pirin¡¯s orders. Banners fluttered in the wind, and chainmail clinked. A pit settled in Pirin¡¯s stomach. This had better work.
He ran along the wall until he found the nearest Sirdian officer¡ªa low-marshal in charge of a troop of archers. ¡°When are the squadrons supposed to launch?¡± Pirin asked. Hopefully, the marshal knew. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
¡°They¡¯re to swoop in and attack once the rockwings pass the wall,¡± the elf said. ¡°When the horns blow twice, that¡¯s their signal to advance.¡± He was young¡ªabout the same age as Pirin, if not a year or two younger. ¡°Wait¡sir? Pirin¡uh, my lord? Is it you?¡±
¡°It¡¯s me, yeah,¡± Pirin said. ¡°I¡¯m here to help, and if you follow your orders, you¡¯ll have the best chance at making it through this. Now, I have birds to deal with.¡±
He ran back along the wall, passing through the central aisle, as a shout rang out along the ramparts and echoed down the line. ¡°Trebuchets!¡± the low-marshals echoed, raising their arms and pointing out toward the approaching army.
With a leathery creak, the trebuchet counterweights dropped. Wood groaned and ropes creaked, then, with a thunk, the trebuchets unleashed their payload. They flung boulders and explosive barrels out at the approaching force. As they flew, the runes etched in the sides of the barrels glowed brighter and brighter, until, just above the ground, they detonated, destroying large swaths of the Dominion army. A lucky boulder smashed through a siege tower, scattering its riders and collapsing it.
Hah! Gray exclaimed inside Pirin¡¯s mind. They¡¯re no match for our artillery! Their feeble towers are sandcastles against our catapults. Or¡are those catapults? Or trebuchets? What¡¯s the difference?
But when the first volley ended, it barely made a dent in the Dominion army.
Why did they stop? Gray complained. Keep going! You¡¯ll crush them!
Pirin ran through the aisle of soldiers until he reached the bridge to the gatemaster¡¯s tower, where Gray still waited. ¡°They have to reload, Gray. We don¡¯t have much time, and they¡¯re working as fast as they can.¡±
How can the Dominion have so many soldiers? I know we saw the camp, but with them all fielded like this¡it¡¯s impressive! Maybe we should¡¯ve joined them. Look at how strong they are!
Gray was getting worse. He swallowed, then said, ¡°They didn¡¯t give us a choice, even if we wanted to. There are people back there behind that wall that need us, though, and we can¡¯t leave them behind.¡±
I¡I was joking¡mhm, yeah, that¡¯s it!
Pirin rolled his eyes, then climbed up into the saddle. A shadow passed overhead¡ªa bird-shaped shadow¡ªand charged at the wall. Talons outstretched, it plucked a pair of spearmen off the wall and crushed them, before a flak catapult swivelled toward it and annihilated it with a spattering of gravel.
So that was how it felt to be on the receiving end of a bird attack.
More rockwings were coming, swooping down with talons outstretched or bombs ready to deploy. All along the wall, elves blew deep, woody horns¡ªloud enough to make his neck tingle. At the first blast, archers stepped forward to the crenellations and nocked arrows, then drew their bows back, then, at the command of their nearby marshals, fired a volley off into the crowd.
At the second horn blast, Sirdian riders took off from the distant hangars. Gnatsnappers streamed out the openings in the caves, launching one after another, and formed up into squadrons in the air. They carried light weapons¡ªbows and spears¡ªfor dogfighting. Pirin clicked his tongue and signalled for Gray to take flight too.
She jumped up and lifted off with a flutter. What¡¯s the plan, then?
¡°We¡¯re going to attack birds until we catch the eye of an Unbound, then we¡¯re going to lead them off before they breach the wall.¡±
What about the Flares? Neria¡¯s army has five hundred flares, right?
¡°They might be strong, but they won¡¯t be able to bring down the wall on their own. Not when we have an army of weavelings defending it.¡±
He and Gray ascended to a fighting height¡ªjust above the treeline and the edge of the valley¡ªthen charged. The rest of the Sirdian gnatsnapper pilots were right behind him, urging their mounts to charge in and attack the dive bombers.
Pirin, without his mask on, prepared a Shattered Palm, then launched it at the nearest rockwing. The Essence of his strike washed over the pilot, sending her tumbling, and fuelling the runes of her bomb.
In a flash, it detonated, wiping out an entire squadron of birds.
By his estimate, there were about two hundred rockwings in the sky. He couldn¡¯t say for certain how large the Sirdian air-fleet was, but there were probably only half that many.
He needed to cut their number down to a manageable amount for the air defenses to destroy before he caught the attention of the Unbound. Alone, that¡¯d be an impossible task. There just wasn¡¯t enough time.
But he wasn¡¯t alone.
He looked down at his haversack, where G?ttrur peered out, then ran his hand down the back of the fox¡¯s head. ¡°We¡¯re going to try organizing the pilots. They need to act in perfect unison, and we can help them with that.¡±
G?ttrur wasn¡¯t like Gray, though. She couldn¡¯t understand perfectly. But Pirin would also be doing most of the work.
He flexed his fingers, then leaned closer to Gray. They swerved to avoid a volley of arrows, then ducked under a sweeping bird¡¯s talon¡¯s. ¡°Gray?¡± Pirin asked. ¡°You think you can keep us in the air while I get the technique going?¡±
Of course! Just make sure you don¡¯t fall out of the saddle.
Good enough.
Pirin locked his elbows around the saddle¡¯s pommel, keeping himself stable, then slid his mask on. He¡¯d need proper control of his bloodline abilities if he wanted this to work.
¡°Swoop past every one of our riders!¡± Pirin instructed. ¡°I need to lock onto their presences!¡±
He¡¯d done this once before, but had only been with three people¡ªand two of them consciously understood what he was doing. Now, there were about fifty riders that he needed to synchronize.
¡°Alright, G?ttrur¡¡± Pirin whispered. ¡°I hope you can sort this all¡¡±
Chapter 30: To Harmkvord [Volume 4]
For a moment, the intruders¡ªthe sprite scavengers¡ªwere silent. They stared at Myraden, then glanced at the Hand.
The last time Seissens had come to ¨ªskan, they were the harbingers of destruction. Perhaps these sprite survivors were right to be worried.
The two of them turned to each other and whispered again, and Myraden let them. She glanced over at the Hand and asked, ¡°Should we trust them? Could Lord Two sense our presences better with their help?¡±
The Hand shook his head. ¡°Look at their breathing patterns. They¡¯re mortals¡ªor at the very least, they have no Familiars¡ªbut they¡¯ve learned to veil themselves. They would¡¯ve had to in order to avoid the detection of any wizards the Dominion sent to clean ¨ªskan up.¡±
¡°And they did not just leave?¡±
¡°Not everyone had that luxury. The Dominion watched the bridge, and though eventually, they began not killing sprite survivors on sight, the Mainland wasn¡¯t a terribly welcoming place for those with antlers.¡±
She lowered her head, then glanced at Kythen. She¡¯d¡just assumed that the remains of ¨ªskan were lifeless, but it wasn¡¯t true. There were still plenty of survivors trying to chisel out an existence on the wasteland.
¨ªskan had been her home too, and she¡¯d left these people behind¡
Was she even a sprite anymore, or had she become more elf now? If they offered her kindness because she looked like them, did she even earn the kindness?
Myraden, Kythen said, approaching. He nuzzled her with his forehead. Two things can be true. When you arrived, and¡up until a few years ago, you often outright rejected all Sirdian traditions and comfort. But being in a different country doesn¡¯t make you any less of a sprite, and being a sprite doesn¡¯t mean you have to push away all the Sirdian comforts, either. These scavengers, though, they just saw you do an incredible feat. I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be willing to help you.
She nodded, then turned back to the Hand. ¡°We need to make for Harmkvord, correct?¡±
¡°Assuming you grew up here, had your formative years, then yes.¡±
¡°Are the plains of ¨ªskan dangerous, now? We will have to take a route northeast across the bottom quarter of the nation.¡±
¡°I imagine there are a fair few wraiths, given the lack of Cursebearers to keep them in check, and we wouldn¡¯t want to go at it without a guide.¡± He tilted his head toward the scavengers. ¡°My plan had been to take the coastal route, where the Eane is weaker.¡±
¨ªskan was in a unique position. A crack in the earth gave the country¡¯s central plateau a range of active volcanoes, but it also had veins of Ichor running closer to the surface, creating a stronger Eane field. One of the duties of ¨ªskan¡¯s ruling wizard families, the Cursebearers, had been to keep the wraiths down and dispersed. As long as they fell in line with Dominion policies and didn¡¯t get too uppity, not to mention didn¡¯t vie for a position as an Unbound Lord, they could keep their little fiefdoms.
But now, there were no more Cursebearers.
¡°Then we will need their help, unless we want to spare a few extra days skirting the coast.¡± Myraden grimaced. ¡°We do not have time for that.¡±
She turned back toward the two sprite survivors (who had stopped talking amongst themselves) and spoke in ¨ªshkaben: ¡°Good evening! I mean you no harm. I am Myraden Leursyn, daughter of Meythis Leursyn, and I¡¯m trying to reach Harmkvord¡ªor what¡¯s left of it. Would you two be able to guide us?¡±
The two sprites shared a glance, then one, a young man in a tattered tunic and a matted fur cloak, said, ¡°We don¡¯t know the way, My Lady. There are many wraith-patches and death-circles now.¡± He spoke in ¨ªshkaben, but in the formal register, and both¡ªthe young man and woman¡ªbowed their heads. ¡°But Ganbjarne does. He has made the northeast pilgrimage many times. If Our Lady is willing, we will lead you to him, and he will take you to Harmkvord.¡±
¡°Thank you,¡± she said, then clasped her hands in front of herself in a formal gesture and bowed in return.
¡°They¡¯re¡taking us to see someone?¡± the Hand asked in Low Speech. ¡°And they recognized you?¡±
¡°They recognized my father¡¯s name, more likely,¡± she replied. ¡°They will bring us to a guide, and he will lead us to Harmkvord.¡±
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Pirin and Gray swooped in and out of the fray, passing as close to the Sirdian squadrons as they could. Pirin reached out with the Whisper Hitch, and latched onto the impressions of their spirit that lingered around them.
It wasn¡¯t as effective as staring them in the eyes and latching directly onto their soul, but he still picked up on the majority of the thoughts they left. As soon as he gained access to their minds, he filtered it through G?ttrur. The jumbled messages and impulses of bird riders fighting for their lives were unintelligible to Pirin, and especially when he reached multiple groups at a time, but G?ttrur sorted them out and turned them into something usable.
With each Sirdian squadron he passed, he added them to the Whisper Hitch. As a Catch, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to hold more than one target. As a Flare, no more than three. But Blaze was orders of magnitude more powerful, and he¡¯d bridged such a broad gap that now, he could hold hundreds of minds at a time.
Doing something with them was a better trick. If they were enemies, perhaps he could strike them with Essence. There were too many at once, and not a strong enough connection to completely annihilate their minds, but he could disorient them.
For allies, he could aid their ability to work together.
Once he had all fifty pilots¡¯ minds gathered up, invisible tendrils connecting them all to him like a leash, he began sending the thoughts back. He interwove everyone¡¯s distinct packets of organized thoughts, letting them instinctively know what the rider next to them was going to do, letting them silently and unknowingly catch a dive-bomber in a perfect pincer, or know when a different rider needed help and convincing them to assist.
It was subconscious for most of them. Pirin couldn¡¯t talk to them, couldn¡¯t control them. Their skill as soldiers and pilots was simply enhanced by his ability to coordinate them all, his sight, his overview.
They whittled the enemy squadrons down three quarters their original size. Only three losses of their own.
Pirin concentrated on the technique still, on cycling Essence and maintaining the strength of the Whisper Hitch. Though he had his mask on, he didn¡¯t pass all his Essence between himself and Gray. The Whisper Hitch stayed purely internal. The Reyad made it stable enough.
After a few minutes of it, he realized that he was barely paying attention to the technique, and instead, watching the birds dance and whirl in the sky, watching the Sirdian pilots¡¯ startling effectiveness.
They took the enemy squadron down to half its size. Pirin once more registered arrows flying at him, which Gray expertly evaded. A rockwing dropped in behind them, intent on hunting him down and shooting them out of the sky, but Pirin was also interlacing his own thoughts into the battle meditation.
Two Sirdian pilots broke off. They sensed the wind perfectly, they sensed each others¡¯ angles of attack, and fired their arrows in unison. One pierced the rockwing¡¯s flank, another shot the rider off the saddle.
Pirin silently thanked them, then pulled Gray back in a circle, angling back toward the fighting. With greater concentration, he could help out in other ways, too. Like using wind currents to rip riders out of their saddles, or to drive dive bombers to the ground before their payloads could strike.
Only a few dive bombers had reached the wall, and even fewer had dropped their payloads. One had struck a trebuchet platform, reducing the artillery to a heap of charred wood and rubble, and another had struck the ramparts, crushing the merlons, and killing the defenders.
The Dominion¡¯s land army crashed on the wall like a silver river smashing rocks. They approached with shield¡¯s raised, guarding a battering ram and archers, and protecting siege ladders and the crews pushing the siege towers.
When the siege towers rumbled up to the wall, their mouths opened wide, and they dropped a drawbridge, exposing their crews to the wall and depositing an endless stream of conscript foot soldiers.
If Pirin had to guess, he¡¯d say the strategy was to weaken the defenders as much as he could, then finally, send in the Flares to break them¡ªinstead of sacrificing valuable wizards that could still be overwhelmed.
When he and the Sirdian birds struck the last dive bomber from the sky, he exhaled in relief. The Sirdians could clean up the rest¡ªonly twenty-five or so birds¡ªwithout him, and when they did retreat, there¡¯d be no one to attack from the sky, harrying a running army.
He deactivated his battle meditation and concentrated on the wall, looking for places he could help, when a presence bubbled up behind him.
A man lifted up off the ground behind Pirin and Gray, holding his arms out to the side, and unveiled his spirit. He threw off his cloak, revealing a bare chest and knotted green tattoos, and a dragon-bat Familiar.
Ah, there he is! Gray exclaimed. Wait, wait, that¡¯s not a good thing. We didn¡¯t want him. Or, you didn¡¯t! Perhaps now¡¯s my chance to show my strength, against a true¡ª
¡°We run,¡± Pirin said. ¡°We run now.¡±
Ganbjarne would¡¯ve been an impossible elf. For one, he had a beard of red, bushy hair. For two, his shoulders were almost as wide as he was tall¡ªand, even ignoring his antlers, he was three heads taller than Myraden. The soot-covered fur cloak didn¡¯t help, no, but he was still massive.
Being a male northern sprite, he¡¯d lose his antlers in the next week or so, but until then, he was still clearly a sprite.
He unfolded a sheet of parchment and, in Low Speech, said, ¡°You two need a guide, huh? This is Meythis¡¯ daughter?¡±
They stood in a sheltered alcove at the edge of the two sprite survivors¡¯ camp. Lord Two was nowhere to be seen¡ªor sensed.
Myraden glanced at Kythen, then back at the Hand, then shrugged. ¡°We would appreciate your help, Ganbjarne-Kjer.¡± Even responding in Low Speech, she still addressed him with the suffix of respect. Something akin to Master Ganbjarne.
¡°It seems you have been busy dealing with the local pests as well, which we appreciate,¡± said Ganbjarne. ¡°Your father was a good man, and he helped me many times in my life. In his memory, I will bring you to Harmkvord. But you may not like what little you find.¡±
Chapter 31: Outpost [Volume 4]
Green blood poured out the knot-tattoos in Lord Three¡¯s wrists, then swirled in the air around him. They took the shape of a dragon head, swirling around his wrists, but it was an attacking technique. He threw both hands toward Pirin, sending dragon-bat apparitions flying through the air in Pirin¡¯s direction.
Pirin pushed down on Gray¡¯s nape, ducking under the technique, then pulled her to the side, guiding her toward the mountain range on the west side of the pass. He had to draw Lord Three away from the battle before he caused any lasting damage to the wall.
The greenblood techniques soared through the air harmlessly, then smashed into the nearby mountainside, where one ripped off a mountain¡¯s summit and another impacted its side. Rocks plummeted to the valley below.
Using all his techniques, Pirin pushed Gray from behind and guided the wind in an aerodynamic shell around them, and they shot off to the edge of the canyon like an arrow. The mountaintops rushed by beneath them.
But for all Pirin¡¯s speed, he was only a Blaze. Lord Three launched himself along, holding himself up with swirling and pulsing tattoos, like they were a harness lifting his body¡¯s frame itself.
Pirin couldn¡¯t outrun that for long. He needed to hide.
He navigated Gray down to the sharp peaks below, then ducked side-to-side, weaving between the mountain peaks. His and Gray¡¯s greater maneuverability had to be an advantage.
But it didn¡¯t matter. Lord Three smashed through a mountain peak with all the grace of a charging bull, scattering rocks and stone for miles beyond.
In fact, he was gaining ground.
Abruptly, Pirin pulled Gray to the left, then tugged up on her nape and navigated her to a nearby ruin.
The abandoned watchtower and tiny castle had probably once been part of Dremfell, but now it was just a silhouette in the dust of the approaching army.
Pirin turned to the side, passing behind a mountaintop, then flew straight into the cloud of dust. As soon as he entered, he veiled himself, and Gray did the same. If she fluttered her wings, she¡¯d disperse the dust and give away their position, so she glided down to the surface with simple spread wings.
Lord Three smashed through the ancient stone peaks behind them, swatting aside rock formations with the abilities his brutish Path gave him. But with a swipe or two, he could disperse the cloud, and Pirin had to get out of sight quickly.
He and Gray glided down to the causeway of the watchtower and landed on a broken sandstone ledge¡ªthe ledge closest to the small castle¡¯s entrance.
Judging by the holes in the gateway floor, it might have once had a portcullis, but that was long-gone. Keeping his head low, Pirin ran into the tower, and Gray followed close behind, hopping along the bridge.
Where are we going? Do you think this castle will hide us for an entire day?
Pirin couldn¡¯t talk without risking shattering his veil¡ªor worse, without Lord Three overhearing¡ªbut he directed his thoughts at Gray, hoping she would receive them and pay attention: We can¡¯t hide forever, but this watchtower will help us. We just need to buy time. He imbued his Essence with the thoughts and sent them across to Gray.
Sure, but what if he just starts ripping the place apart and destroying it? Gray asked.
Only if he wants to give us another distraction to escape under, Pirin reasoned, and hoped he was right. But if he wants to corner us and trap us? He can¡¯t bring the roof down on us, because I¡¯d just use a technique to survive. I¡¯d push it away and run. But I also can¡¯t bash through a wall like he can.
But there was always a chance that Lord Three wasn¡¯t thinking rationally, or Pirin had overlooked something. He drew the stub of his sword and maintained his veil, then retreated deeper into the main hall of the castle. Inside its base, it had a set of hallways, chambers, and a main hall¡ªand eventually, a spiral staircase up to the two-hundred foot watchtower that looked over the entire valley.
Pirin couldn¡¯t stay out in the main hall. He ran off to the side, then ducked into a chamber on the wall. It had a window overlooking the valley, where he could keep tabs on the siege and the progress, while also staying hidden.
Pressing his back up against the wall, he pulled Gray into the room as well, then laid a finger on his lips, urging her to be quiet. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Quiet. Got it! No squawks. I was doing pretty good, though, right?
Pirin nodded.
Out the window, the siege was progressing as expected. Weavelings ran up to the wall to fill the gaps left by fallen Sirdians, and now the upper wall bore a mixture of blue and gold. Archers rained arrows down onto the army below, and the artillery platforms, now safe from birds, set the siege towers in their sights and picked them off as they approached.
Ladders pushed up against the wall as well, and though the weavelings kicked them down, more always sprang up. The repeating crossbow emplacements picked off soldiers as they climbed the ladder, but one-by-one, then emplacements and gunners fell to arrows from the ground. Return fire from the Dominion trebuchets smashed the wall, reducing ramparts to rubble or throwing bomb barrels into the city beyond.
But for now, the wall was holding. Pirin needed to focus on his task and keep himself alive.
He maintained his veil, then monitored the influence of Lord Three¡¯s presence on his core. The push, the repelling effect of such a strong spirit.
It was constant, but he hadn¡¯t had as much time practicing with the effects of other people¡¯s presences as other wizards had. He hadn¡¯t been exposed to as much magic as them. To pinpoint it would¡¯ve been impossible for him, let alone determine its strength while veiled. To tell what direction it was coming from, though, and how close? He could monitor that with relative ease.
¡°I know you¡¯re in here, elf,¡± Lord Three said. His voice rolled through the halls of the chamber, Essence fortifying it. ¡°Come out, and I will make your end quick.¡±
So far, it was just Lord Three. Lord Two was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps he wasn¡¯t even here. Neria knew she didn¡¯t need two Unbound to punch a hole in Dremfell, to kill Pirin.
For now, she was right.
¡°But I figure you¡¯re not the kind to give up,¡± Lord Three continued. ¡°Well, let me tell you this: I advocated for you to join us, instead, to give your service over to our empress and serve her. Become her Red Hand, of sorts.¡±
Silence. He drew closer. The push of his core weighed heavily on Pirin¡¯s own.
¡°She said no, of course, and I listened. You think you¡¯re free, and you want to stay free, hm? Well, let me tell you, there is nothing more freeing than giving yourself over to the whims of one higher than you, accepting your station in life, and obeying. Do you know how the Dominion was born, elf?¡±
Pirin and Gray shared a glance. But truly, he didn¡¯t know.
¡°The Dominion was once a kingdom like the other Eight,¡± Lord Three said, ¡°Ostanor, they called it. There was a parliament, there were wizard-kings, and there were the four Unbound. Yes, indeed, the Tarren family made a deal with the Unbound to help them overthrow the wizard king, but it wasn¡¯t an isolated event.¡±
Pirin shifted. Lord Three¡¯s presence drew closer. He tilted his head to the right, where a doorway stood, leading to a smaller hallway.
He and Gray ran to the smaller hallway, then ducked in, slipping behind the bulkhead-like doorway and hiding themselves from sight.
And just in time. Lord Three leaned into the room they had been hiding in.
He wouldn¡¯t have seen anything.
Sure enough, he leaned back out into the main hall and kept moving. ¡°The people supported the Tarren family, you see? The regular people of Ostanor, those left starving, desperate, and forgotten by the old elites. They were the ones who overthrew the parliament and proclaimed Tarren Kaleaun emperor. They willingly ripped up their constitution, threw away their rights, for a semblance of stability and prosperity. Constitutional monarchy no more. Empire.¡±
Pirin shivered.
¡°When they didn¡¯t have to worry about casting stones in provincial Choosings, they were free to pillage and conquer. When they didn¡¯t have to debate the moral merits of their leader, they were free to follow.¡±
But they weren¡¯t free.
Pirin pressed his lips shut. Either Lord Three was trying to rile him up, trying to draw him out, or he just wanted to hear himself talk.
¡°The Emperor must be a cunning politician, a brilliant strategist, and a perfect demagogue. Wizard-kings were doomed to fail; most of their life is spent trying to absorb Essence and grow stronger. They have no time to learn politics. We are born to serve, Pirin.¡± Lord Three paused. ¡°Of course, for you, the only way you can serve is to die.¡±
Pirin and Gray evaded Lord Three for the remainder of the day, ducking from room to room, maintaining his veil.
The Unbound scoured the castle. When he checked a room, Pirin and Gray tucked into one of the hallways joining to it. When he left, they slipped back into a room he¡¯d just been in. Eventually, he began backtracking, punching holes in walls and tearing down hiding places, but it all cost him time.
Almost every room had two entrances and exits, and he used them.
The sun set and moons rose, then climbed to the top of the sky¡¯s dome. The siege of Dremfell continued in the distance. Soldiers poured onto the walls, and a combined force of weavelings and Sirdians held them back. So far, the Dominion had only taken over one trebuchet tower.
They still didn¡¯t need Pirin.
When the evasion game had lasted all night and the sun now rose over the eastern wall of the valley, Lord Three began ripping down the walls. He gathered greenblood around his fists and formed dragonhead gauntlets, then punched through the old stone. Walls crumbled and shattered, reducing the spots that both Pirin and Gray could hide.
We need to make a run for it, Pirin shot to Gray mentally. We¡¯ll climb the watchtower. It¡¯s the best we can do to give the Sirdians just a little more time.
Chapter 32: Making a Run [Volume 4]
When Lord Three collapsed a pillar in the main hall, sending the enter western wall of the hall tumbling into a pile of dust, Pirin sprinted to safety.
He¡¯d been on the eastern side of the castle, of course, watching Lord Three from a distance, but now was his chance to make for the watchtower. The old castle was already structurally unstable and crumbling, but now, the entire ceiling of the main hall cracked. Grout shattered with puffs of dust, and bricks leaned.
Pirin and Gray sprinted up a stairway two steps at a time, reaching the second level of the main hall and its surrounding chambers. The cracking bricks and crumbling castle masked his footsteps, and he and Gray hid behind nearby pillars or ducked into rooms. The less time they spent out in the open, the better.
As the roof collapsed sloughed off the main hall, allowing orange sunrise into the hall, Pirin and Gray sprinted into the watchtower¡¯s staircase.
Inside, there wasn¡¯t nearly as much room as he¡¯d expected. Only a central pillar and a spiral staircase winding up around it.
They took the stairs up two storeys before Pirin stopped and pressed his back against the central pillar. Not good. He¡¯d been expecting extra rooms near the base of the watchtower, where he could hide once more, but there was nothing except a staircase.
We have to climb! Gray exclaimed. We need to get back in the air!
If they went quickly, they might still have a chance to escape without Lord Three noticing.
Pirin and Gray continued winding up around the staircase. The higher they climbed, the more rickety the tower became. Holes in the wall let in gusts of wind, and entire steps were missing altogether. They leapt over them easily, until they reached a winding gap that they couldn¡¯t cross with a normal elf¡¯s legs.
Pirin fed his enhanced body just a touch of Essence, allowing himself the strength to jump off the step, run a circle around the edge of the tower, and wall-run up to the next stair. He immediately veiled himself a moment later, and Gray fluttered across.
Lord Three¡¯s core surged in the distance, then blasted upward.
¡°No!¡± Pirin hissed under his breath.
But there was no point in keeping his veil. He sprinted up the stairs, using the wind to push himself faster and harder than ever before, and spiralled up the stairs to the top of the tower in a matter of seconds. Gray emerged right behind him.
As they ran, Pirin glanced out the holes in the wall. A battering ram trundled up to the gate of the Dremfell Wall. A moulded silver fist clung to its front, and the entire structure was nearly three storeys tall. It smashed the gate over and over, splintering the wood and sending booms pulsing through the whole valley.
Meanwhile, on the walls, Essence flashed. The five hundred Flares had joined the fighting. Bright multicoloured Essence launched out as they fired off techniques, and the sparks clouded the early morning air, muddling into an overall brown hue. The weavelings surrounded them, jabbing with their strength and encircling with their numbers.
Each weaveling was about the strength of a late kindling-stage wizard, maybe even a spark, and though they couldn¡¯t use techniques, they could overwhelm wizards with sheer numbers.
For now, they were holding the wizards off, but they wouldn¡¯t be when the gate fell. They¡¯d done what they could, but soon, they¡¯d have to retreat.
And Pirin still needed to keep control of Lord Three.
The top of the tower was a simple, round outlook with crenellated bulwarks at its edges and an old, bare post where a standard would¡¯ve once hung.
¡°Ah, there you are!¡± Lord Three exclaimed. He floated up along the outside of the tower, holding himself up with the strength of his tattoos, then dropped down on the watchtower¡¯s ramparts. ¡°I was going to give you mercy, but now I think I¡¯d rather watch you suffer. You think you¡¯re such a wonderful king, but I¡¯ll show you what the reality of this little rebellion is. First, you¡¯ll watch your wall burn, then you¡¯ll stare upon the agony of your nation as you slowly fade away.¡±
But, despite his bluster, his chest heaved, and his dragon-bat clung to his shoulder limply.
Even an Unbound could get tired after chasing Pirin for a whole night, and his ability to fly must¡¯ve been severely diminished.
Now was their chance.
Pirin jumped up into Gray¡¯s saddle and pressed his elbows down on her neck. She took off with a flutter, wings creating a downdraft, and Pirin pulled her back toward the Dremfell Wall. He needed Lord Three to know that he¡¯d escaped, and to chase after him, but not so fast that he caught Pirin.
But Pirin hadn¡¯t used much of his Essence supply at all. He pushed with wind, speeding them up, and¡ª
A blast of greenblood caught him in the shoulder and struck with such force it ripped him out of the saddle. A burning sensation covered his shoulder, like thousands of tiny teeth shredding his flesh at once. It tore a hole in his light armour and tunic before he even registered the damage. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
And then he was plummeting through the air. He pushed a current of wind up beneath him, catching himself and slowing his fall until he hovered in the air¡ªonly a few feet above the spiky peak of a mountain. ¡°Gray! Are you¡ª¡±
She tried to turn and swoop back toward him, but another column of greenblood surged through the air and blasted her in the wing. She spun, then spiralled out of control and fell. Pirin pushed the currents of wind holding himself up, then shot after her. She tried to spread her wings, to control her fall, but the blast of greenblood ripped off a swath of flight feathers, and the wing bent upward at an unnatural angle.
Pirin, I can¡¯t turn! she exclaimed.
¡°I¡¯m coming!¡± he shouted.
Lord Three, who still stood on the rim of the tower, launched another blast at Pirin, but it skimmed past his feet, only barely missing.
Pirin threw out a Winged Fist, thrusting Gray to the side, and helping her angle toward a mountainous ledge. It was on the side of a wedge of stone, with a thick layer of snow and gravel atop it.
Gray tucked her wings in at the last moment and tumbled across the ledge, kicking up a wave of snow. She just barely stopped before she reached the edge, then staggered to her feet. Mentally, she groaned, and audibly, she let out a chain of pained chirps.
Pirin pushed himself down to the same ledge, then stumbled across the snow until he reached her side. ¡°Gray? Can you hear me? Can you still hop, or¡ª¡±
It¡¯s taking over. I can hear it¡I can feel it¡ Her eyes glowed a shade of dewy green, and cat-like slits shone black in the center, staring back into him. Her feathers ruffled, and the dragon-wraith¡¯s twigs erupted out across her wings.
Pirin held his hand out and immediately used a Whisper Hitch, granting himself access to her mind.
An misty gray orb of Essence appeared above the palm of his hand, but quickly, it wobbled, then split into two spheres. One tiny orb, barely a fingernail in diameter, and one much larger¡ªperhaps an inch or two.
The smaller of the two was Gray. It was just a gnatsnapper¡¯s soul, weak, and though it was trying to resist, the dragon was drawing its resources.
Pirin had erased most of the dragon¡¯s mind, destroyed most of its, soul, but there was still some left, and it had fed on Gray when she was the weakest.
He considered, in that moment, trying to blast it with Essence and snuff it out, but tendrils of misty Essence bridged the gap between the two souls. If he destroyed one, he¡¯d destroy them both.
The dragon was just¡obeying its nature. But if he ever wanted Gray back to normal, he¡¯d have to destroy it.
¡°Gray, you have to resist. It wants you to feed it, but you¡¯re strong. I know you are.¡± He pulled her to the back of the ledge and pressed his back up against the rock, so Lord Three couldn¡¯t hit them until he moved. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to work on this here. We need to get back to the wall.¡±
But Gray shuddered and vibrated. She opened her mouth and panted¡ªwhich, for a gnatsnapper, was as close as she could get to sweating.
Reason, reason. He needed to help. His inability had caused this problem, but now, he had the strength to get them out of it.
If Brealtod was right, and the dragons of old would seek out hoards of gold, or of other resources, then the same had to go for the dragon wraith. It sought a host, some hoard of flesh, soul, and spirit to cling to.
And now, the remains of its will and soul had fed. He couldn¡¯t just cut out the dragon¡¯s soul, or even parts of it, without shredding material of Gray¡¯s as well.
No, she had to have a greater will, and she had to take it back on her own.
The greatest willpower came from wanting something the most. She had to want the soul more than the dragon did, and she had to push it out of its domain. It was a force of nature, acting on nature¡¯s whims. But they¡¯d already defied nature once¡ªGray should never have been a Familiar, should never have had a mind or a core.
She shook her head and chirped, then fluttered her wings. Her soul was still resisting.
Pirin maintained his link and shifted thoughts between them. He used his will to cycle her Essence, freeing up more of her concentration and allowing her to openly duel the dragon. There were no coherent thoughts between them, only a push and pull, a give and take.
The ledge shook. Lord Three soared through the air with a single jump, spending a burst of Essence to fling himself to the ledge. He landed in a crouch, then pushed himself up to his full height. ¡°Oh, how wonderful. Is the bird hurt?¡± He snorted, and his dragon-bat chittered. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll make its life miserable first, for its sin of bonding with such a horrid rebel king.¡±
Pirin maintained the Whisper Hitch, but he turned around to face Lord Three. ¡°No,¡± he said. He stepped to the side, inserting himself between the lord and Gray. ¡°You won¡¯t lay a hand on her.¡±
¡°All the same, it¡¯ll feel whatever pain you do.¡±
¡°You won¡¯t hurt my bird.¡±
Lord Three widened his stance, then punched a wireframe outline of a greenblood dragon at Pirin. There was no dodging; he¡¯d just expose Gray.
Ripping off his mask, he launched the most powerful Shattered Palm he could muster in such a short time. It rippled through the air, scouring the remaining snow off the ledge, and clashed with the wireframe dragon.
But it was a Blaze¡¯s technique against a Wildflame¡¯s. It was no contest. The Shattered Palm ripped away the outer layer of greenblood, weakening it, but when it smashed him in the chest and flung him into the rock wall behind them, it still ripped through his armour, tore his flesh and stabbed into his lungs, and cracked his ribs.
He wheezed and spasmed. His mind went blank from pain, and it took all his subconscious will to maintain the Whisper Hitch.
He pushed it down, assuring himself that his enhanced body would heal it, then, gasping, crawled toward Gray. He¡¯d put himself between another technique if he had to. He pushed himself up, just in time to take another blast of greenblood to the shoulder. It was a glancing blow, but with nothing to block it, it ripped flesh and flung him into the rock wall behind him.
It was dislocated. He could barely feel his fingers, and blood poured out from the muscle¡ªwhich, by all accounts, had been erased from existence.
Still, with his single functional arm, he dragged himself in front of Gray one last time, ready to shield her. With the Whisper Hitch still active, he held as much of the pain away from Gray as he could, letting her fight the dragon.
Lord Three prepared one more blast, pulling his arm back. ¡°You just don¡¯t learn, do you? It won¡¯t work.¡±
¡°I¡¯m used to failure.¡±
Chapter 33: Back to Normal [Volume 4]
Pirin braced himself for one more impact. He clenched his teeth and activated the Fracturenet, strengthening his form as much as he could.
Lord Three threw his arm forward, and the technique flew off his hand. It struck Pirin in the side of the head. Heat and cold splashed across his face, and the world whirled as he spun. He tumbled back along the ledge, then crashed into Gray with such force that the wall behind her shattered.
Half of his vision was dark, and he could barely breathe, let alone think. He probably screamed, but he couldn¡¯t hear it. He forced himself to maintain the Whisper Hitch. For Gray.
In an instant, everything fell dark.
~ ~ ~
When Pirin awoke, he laid on a plane of blank whiteness. The walls were white, the floor was white, the sky was white. There was no horizon, only a uniform glow.
He groaned and rubbed the side of his head. He could barely move, even in this¡vision, wherever he was. He couldn¡¯t see out his left eye, and the left side of his face burned. The flesh was probably missing, but he didn¡¯t dare touch it.
He gasped and coughed for a few seconds, until finally, he regained control of his breaths. His lungs wheezed. There were holes in them, and a rib or two had punctured inward. Every breath took all his concentration.
No. Not all. The Whispere Hitch was still active. He could still hear himself breathing.
The white void throbbed in time with his breaths. If such a shade could fluctuate, it did. Maybe it was getting brighter. He couldn¡¯t tell.
Then something warm poked his shoulder on the left side. The intact shoulder. A¡finger? It squished like a finger.
He forced his head to swivel. On his left side, kneeling beside him, was a young woman with silver hair and pink eyes. She was maybe a few years younger than him, and wore a dress made of twigs and leaves.
A gray wing of feathers sprouted from behind each of her ears, just like Pirin¡¯s Bondmark.
¡°You¡would do this all for me?¡± she asked.
¡°Gray?¡±
¡°I¡suppose that¡¯s my name.¡± Her voice was soft, and with each word, it fluttered, almost like when a bird tweeted.
¡°Where are we? Why are you¡like that? How?¡±
She spread the corners of her lips and shrugged, then tilted her head to the side. ¡°The dragon is gone. I overwhelmed it. I needed to. There was no other way. If you¡¯d go this far for me, then I had to do the same. I¡don¡¯t know how. It¡¯s like¡I took in a slice of its soul, but completely integrated it. It¡¯s all me.¡±
Pirin held up his hands. If the Whisper Hitch was truly active, he could get a better idea of what was happening just by looking at it.
But his hands were empty.
¡°Pirin, I think you¡¯re inside the Whisper Hitch,¡± Gray said. ¡°By the Eane, it¡¯s weird to be speaking. Speaking? Am I? Or am I just passing intent? Speaking, speaking, speaking¡is there another way of saying it?¡±
¡°Inside the Whisper Hitch¡¡± Pirin gasped. ¡°No. I projected my consciousness into your soul. When I went unconscious with the Whisper Hitch. We¡¯re in your soul.¡±
¡°It¡¯s¡empty. Am I stupid?¡±
Pirin sighed. ¡°No, Gray. It¡¯s just blank. For the first time, it¡¯s your own soul.¡±
¡°Huh.¡± She stood up and turned around. ¡°The shape of a woman, then. That¡¯s odd¡¡±
¡°The soul has a preferred shape, an excellent shape, and you are kinda sharing an elf¡¯s spiritual system. We¡¯re almost men.¡± Pirin took another laboured breath. ¡°Gray, if I¡¯m unconscious¡¡±
¡°We need to do something.¡±
¡°Pirin, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Gray scratched the side of her head. ¡°I¡shouldn¡¯t have let the dragon-wraith get such a hold.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
¡°You didn¡¯t have a choice. It was my fault. I should be the one apologizing.¡±
¡°No. I¡I dunno. I was feeling weird. Left behind, almost. You had Myraden, and G?ttrur, and now a country to look after. Then weavelings. I¡let myself slip, a little, let it fade away. I told myself you didn¡¯t need me anymore.¡±
¡°Gray, if I could, I would die to protect you.¡±
¡°I¡see that now. Which is why I¡¯m sorry. Now it¡¯s my turn to save you. Something¡¯s coming over the mountains. Is that¡the Featherflight? I think I can make it.¡±
In the void, Pirin couldn¡¯t see what she was talking about, but he trusted her vision enough.
¡°I¡¯ll need a distraction,¡± she said.
¡°I¡¯ve got one last Shattered Palm in me. And Lord Three is exhausted. Even if he could, I¡¯ve worn out his Essence. I don¡¯t think he could catch the Featherflight right away, even if he wanted to.¡±
¡°Then it¡¯s a plan!¡± Gray jumped up and pumped her fist. Quickly, though, she pulled her arm down and pointed a finger at Pirin. ¡°Don¡¯t die. Don¡¯t. Or we¡¯ll both fall, and you¡¯ll really die. Die for good.¡±
¡°I think I¡¯m gonna have to deactivate the Whisper Hitch to get out of here,¡± Pirin said. ¡°You¡¯ll feel my wounds.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not real. I can take it.¡±
¡°Can you fly?¡±
¡°I can flutter the distance.¡±
¡°Alright.¡± Pirin nodded, as if to reassure himself, too. ¡°I trust you, Gray.¡±
But now, he had to pull himself out of this vision. He concentrated on his external breathing and deactivated the Whisper Hitch, holding his breath. The white void crumbled away into dust and wisps, then flowed away into the recesses of Pirin¡¯s mind. Outside the blank void, only a second had passed, maybe less.
Pain redoubled in his mind, reminding him of his damaged arm and scoured half of his face, of his laboured, wheezing breaths and the holes in his lungs. He coughed, choking out blood, then, with a heave of his one working arm, flipped himself onto his stomach.
Are you ready? Gray asked.
Pirin didn¡¯t have the energy to respond. She¡¯d know what he meant.
He unleashed one more Shattered Palm at Lord Three. Specks filled Pirin¡¯s vision. They concentrated at the edges, swirling like black snowflakes. Nausea boiled up in his stomach. He choked it down.
The Shattere Palm caught the Unbound in his shoulder, and though it didn¡¯t fling him over the edge of the mountain ledge or rip his flesh off his bones, it made him stagger. His eyes burned with fury, and he lunged toward Pirin.
Before he could arrive, Gray jumped back and fluttered her wings, creating a strong gale and pushing back against the Unbound. Then, she gripped Pirin¡¯s body gently in her talons and fluttered off through the mountains. With each wingbeat, she lost height, and her feathers ruffled unnaturally, but her blank black eyes squinted with determination.
Wait. Her eyes were back to normal.
The dragon-wraith was no more.
Pirin clung to that hope, keeping himself conscious and aware of his surroundings. It was a weird angle to fly at, and the slight tilt made blood flow to his head, before spilling out his wounds and trickling out through the sky. He concentrated his Essence on his wounds, trying to convince his enhanced body to heal them faster.
The blood stopped pouring out, and he could feel his flesh knitting back together, even if he couldn¡¯t see it. But it¡¯d still take days to recover, and he felt so tired. If he could just sleep¡
He cast those thoughts aside and concentrated on the furnace in his chest. He wouldn¡¯t pass out until they reached safety.
He concentrated on his surroundings. On the mountain peaks. Concentration. Focus on the rock patterns, the snow, anything to stay conscious. Didn¡¯t work. Farther away, then, on the armies in the Dremfell pass.
The battering ram had worked. The gate lay wide open, and Dominion soldiers poured into the streets beyond. They sprinted up the stairs to the wall, and clashed with the Sirdians and weavelings. They disabled artillery and tore down banners.
Hollow horns sounded throughout the valley, signalling a retreat from all except a few volunteers, who formed a line in the main thoroughfare. They interlocked shields and pointed their spears forward, ready to intercept any who tried to break through and chase the retreating army.
They were a few hours early, but there had still been plenty of time to send messengers away, to clear the countryside, and to save what they could.
Now Pirin just had to live.
Lord Three spun around. He stood on the ledge, his hands poised in a fighting position, ready to fire one more technique at Pirin and Gray and snuff them out.
He had enough Essence for one more blast?
There was nothing Pirin could do, but he still tried to call up the Fracturenet. It sputtered out as soon as he used it. Nothing.
A thud echoed through the valley, then a whistle. A heavy crossbow bolt struck Lord Three in the chest, and though it didn¡¯t pierce his skin, it sent him staggering back along the stone ridge. His technique shot off into the sky.
Then came the thunk-thud of a repeated crossbow reloading. Another twang, another whistle. The bold smashed Lord Three in the chest again, sending him staggering back once more and buying them time.
Pirin craned his neck. The Featherflight rose up between a pair of mountain peaks. Brealtod stood on the upper platform, using the repeating crossbow, and Alyus and Nomad held the wheels steady in the gondola. The cargo hold doors were open.
Gray made one last push, swooping under the airship and rising up into the cargo hold, then dropped Pirin on the platform. A greenblood technique shot by beneath them, ripping off the cargo hold doors.
The airship swung around, turning into the wind, and ballast poured out from the front canisters. The ship lurched up into the sky.
At his full strength, Lord Three might have been able to chase them, but not when he¡¯d been spending Essence for a day straight.
They¡¯d escaped.
Chapter 34: Hometown [Volume 2]
After a few days of walking across the tundras of ¨ªskan, they stepped onto a trail that Myraden recognized. If they took it farther west, it¡¯d bring them to Teyjkravi, the old capital of ¨ªskan¡ªwhich she¡¯d only travelled to once during her childhood.
But, when they reached the trail, it ran diagonally northeast across the bottom corner of the nation, passing through forests and along the edge of the central ¨ªskan ice sheet.
On one side, a dirty wall of ice rose above the brown grass and gravel about fifty feet, almost like a cliff, except sharper and smoother. The glacier covered the entire central plain of ¨ªskan, rendering only the hundred-mile swathes of land along the coast habitable. Even by sprite standards, the central sheet was unliveable. They might tolerate the cold, but without food or trees, there was no point.
To the east, a forest of ashy tree trunks poked out from the ground like a giant pincushion. Their skeletal branches hung limp, and many of them had collapsed. When she brushed her hand along one, it crumbled and collapsed, taking another two shrubs with it before falling into the olive-green newgrowth.
Even if the Dominion had burned the old forests, they couldn¡¯t stop new shrubs and saplings from sprouting up.
Ganbjarne led the way, carrying a heavy pack on his back, then walked the Hand, using his sword as a walking stick as they navigated the overgrown path. At the very rear, Myraden rode on Kythen¡¯s back, keeping watch over their surroundings and monitoring her senses for any sign of an Unbound Lord.
Of course, she also kept herself veiled, hiding from Lord Two¡¯s senses. She didn¡¯t pick up on him, but a few ash wraiths had strayed dangerously close to the path. Never enough to see them, but enough to sense them.
Ganbjarne did his job. The only beasts they saw were a pack of wild bloodhorns walking along the upper ridge of the ice shelf, and a herd of karebain galloping through the ashy forests, manabulbs dangling from their antlers. He only stopped after the fourth day to shed his antlers, then continued on.
¡°I remember this path,¡± she told the Hand.
¡°Did you walk it often?¡±
¡°Not often.¡± She leaned closer to Kythen¡¯s neck, but also pulled herself lower to better speak with the Hand. ¡°But my father brought me here once¡when I was seven or eight season-cycles. We made the trek to Teyjkravi.¡±
¡°What for?¡±
¡°I, as his only heir, was to meet the governor-king of ¨ªskan and be sworn in as the next Cursebearer of the Leursyn family.¡±
¡°Did it happen?¡±
¡°It did, yes. I do not remember much about the governor-king, but I remember the road to get there. As a child, it was a long road.¡±
The Hand nodded. He stayed silent for a few seconds, then said, ¡°When I first travelled to meet Meythis, I took this road to Harmkvord as well. When we made our rebellious schemes. But it has changed greatly since then.¡±
Myraden scratched her chin.
¡°He spoke about you often,¡± said the Hand. ¡°He loved you like a son, even if the others in your family wanted him to try for a male heir.¡±
¡°Did he say why he only had one child?¡±
The Hand exhaled. ¡°Your mother did not give birth easily. They feared that having another child would kill her, and he wasn¡¯t about to jeopardize her life for familial pride. It wouldn¡¯t have made a difference in the end, though.¡±
¡°My mother is still alive,¡± Myraden said. She swallowed. ¡°She survived the journey to Sirdia, but¡we are not on speaking terms anymore.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a shame.¡±
Myraden shut her eyes, but had no response.
¡°Your revelations,¡± the Hand said. ¡°We need to keep working on opening your Inner Gates, and you still need your Spirit Revelation.¡±
¡°I have been thinking about it. I was not sure if I was ready to try again.¡± She¡¯d already tried once, and there were only two more chances to get it right before she locked down her spiritual system.
¡°At some point, you will have to make the leap.¡± The Hand slowed down to walk beside her and Kythen. ¡°You will have to accept your new reality, whatever it is. Find an all-encompassing purpose.¡±
¡°Just¡how?¡± She blew out a puff of air, but, unlike the Hand¡¯s breaths, it didn¡¯t turn to steam. ¡°How could my desires have changed all of a sudden? It does not seem possible.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
¡°They haven¡¯t changed,¡± the Hand said. ¡°You¡¯ve grown up. You¡¯ve become a different person, and you¡¯ve changed without realizing it. It happens to everyone. One day, you think that dream you¡¯ve clung so tight to¡just isn¡¯t what you want anymore, and you heart lies in a different place.¡±
Myraden, Kythen said, did you like being angry? Did you like that desperate desire for revenge?
¡°No,¡± she replied in ¨ªshkaben. ¡°I hated it. But I didn¡¯t think I had any other choice.¡±
But something changed.
¡°I met Pirin.¡± She lowered her head again, imagining the first time they¡¯d met. He¡¯d been so quiet, scared, and impossibly na?ve, but so desperate to achieve what he wanted. To help people, and to prove that he, as an Embercore, wouldn¡¯t always be a burden. No hate, even though the Dominion had taken his father¡ªor close enough¡ªfrom him.
He¡¯d always been trying to build something better.
¡°I am going to try one,¡± Myraden said to the Hand in Low Speech. ¡°I think I am close.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯re close,¡± the Hand asserted. By now, Ganbjarne was looking back at them. Over the past four days, this was probably the most either of them spoke. ¡°Know you¡¯re close.¡±
¡°I do not want anyone else to grow up like I did,¡± she said softly. A faint chill ran down her spine. Almost there. ¡°I do not want anyone to be lost, angry, and hopeless. I want there to be a life beyond war and suffering.¡±
A spear of resonance jolted through her spine, and she shuddered. Her eyes flew open, and she had to unveil herself for a moment as her Center-Rhun channel shuddered and flared, shaking loose the char and opening the gate up completely.
A burden lifted off her shoulders, and her lower back felt almost weightless. ¡°It worked.¡±
¡°Excellent,¡± said the Hand. ¡°Now, you must consider the Heart Revelation. We do not have time to celebrate.¡±
On the seventh day of walking, the forest faded, leaving only an empty plain of grass. A light snow covered the ground, hiding the mud, but frost-covered stalks still pushed through. No one had walked the old path since the snow fell. No grass grew on it, and it was easy enough to follow.
As the charred forest faded away behind them, the ice wall crept closer to the coast, until noon, when Myraden could see both without turning her head. Seagulls circled overhead, and the salty, faintly tangy smell of the ocean mixed with the lingering aura of ash.
There was something different about the smell of the sea at Harmkvord. Less rotting fish¡ªit was too cold for them to rot. Maybe the cooler air brought out different scents, or the waves crashing on the far-away rocks sent up more spray. The sea spray was almost always what caused the thick hoarfrost.
But if she could see the ocean, and smell Harmkvord¡
Home. This was home.
She jumped off Kythen¡¯s back and landed in the ankle-high snow, then sprinted down the path. She dodged the Hand and Ganbjarne, racing to the top of a nearby hillock, then stopped and put her hands on her hips.
A mile along the path was a small cobblestone manor with ever-ice windows and The charred remains of thatched roofs. It had never been meant for defense, but rather, was the family manor of the Leursyns. Burned, of course, but she recognized it in a heartbeat.
Beyond, farther down the slope, was the village of Harmkvord. Blackened buildings lined the edges of a sheltered bay, and crumbling piers reached out to sea, where fishing boats would once have docked.
¡°This is as far as I will travel,¡± said Ganbjarne when he reached the top of the hill. ¡°I trust you two will find your ways, wherever you¡¯re heading next, or can figure the same route back to Ravi, if you need.¡±
¡°Thank you,¡± Myraden said. She offered a short bow, then said, ¡°Eane guide you, if nothing else.¡±
He began walking away, but after a few seconds, she asked, ¡°How many sprites are left, sir?¡±
¡°In Ravi?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Fifty, perhaps. In Harmkvord, I cannot say, though I do not expect you to find many.¡±
But she didn¡¯t let that dampen her mood.
For the first time in nearly a decade, she was back home.
Pirin faded in and out of consciousness. He laid on the cot of the Featherflight¡¯s crew quarters, tossing and rolling as the winds shook the airship. Bandages covered every inch of his body, but he relied more on his enhanced body to heal. He cycled Essence to the wounds, using it to rebuild his flesh and veins, to help his body generate more blood, and to get himself back into a wakening state of mind.
Days passed. The air warmed up when they passed the mountains, but he couldn¡¯t say exactly where they were heading¡ªexcept North into Sirdia.
Finally, when Pirin could keep himself awake for more than a few minutes at a time, he rolled onto his side¡ªunconcerned about his injured arm¡ªand faced Nomad. The man stood at the stove, stirring a pot. ¡°Where are we going?¡±
¡°North.¡± Nomad tapped the ladle on the edge of the pot. ¡°The retreat is going smoothly.¡±
¡°We need to head to Kerstel,¡± Pirin said.
¡°We thought you¡¯d need time to recover, and that you should do it in the safety of Northvel. We still have a month, perhaps, until the Dominion can move their army to Northvel.¡±
Pirin winced. ¡°That¡¯s not enough time at all, not if we¡take breaks. Kerstel. I need to advance to Wildflame, and I can recover along the way.¡±
¡°Pirin¡¡±
¡°We have to,¡± he insisted. ¡°There¡¯s no time. If I don¡¯t travel to Kerstel, we¡¯ll lose.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll have Alyus adjust our course.¡±
Chapter 35: To Kerstel [Volume 4]
It took two more days until Pirin could stand upright again. When he could finally move his arms, he heaved himself up out of the cot and examined his bandages. They were clean and fresh, and though the skin below was still weeping, it wasn¡¯t bleeding as badly as before.
But he still couldn¡¯t see out his left eye.
It was nighttime when he descended down to the gondola. Only Brealtod was still awake. He held both the ship¡¯s wheels in place, keeping them steady and level as they flew over the forests and abandoned farmland of the Sirdian countryside.
Crops clung to fields half-harvested, farmsteads lay abandoned, and small cities¡ªthe few they passed¡ªwere packed. If they had a curtain wall, or even a wooden stockade, civilians gathered to wait out the invasion.
By Pirin¡¯s best guess, they were heading due west¡ªdirectly toward the island of Kerstel. They still had a few days before they arrived.
¡°It looks like you fixed Gray,¡± Brealtod said in his language of hisses and clicks.
Pirin gave a shaky nod. ¡°We¡did it together. She overwhelmed the dragon, and for now¡it seems like it¡¯s locked down for good.¡±
He approached the curved bank of windows at the front of the gondola, then stared into his candlelit reflection. A bandage wrapped around his head, blocking out his left eye and covering the damaged flesh.
But if it had just been a bandage covering his eye, there¡¯d still be some light slipping through.
Nothing made it through. It was blank.
He¡¯d healed his face enough that he could pull away the bandage. He unwound it carefully, then bunched it up in his hands.
A red scar ran down his face from the center of his forehead down to his left cheek, and it crossed right through his eye. Instead of the usual blue, his iris was a pale, milky white, with a slightly darker gray pupil.
It¡was gone.
He touched the scar gently, mouth gaping in disbelief. ¡°Brealtod¡?¡± he asked.
The dragonfolk hissed affirmatively.
¡°It¡¯s not gonna heal up, ever, will it?¡±
¡°No,¡± Brealtod hissed, and Pirin translated the sounds. ¡°It will not.¡±
¡°Not even when I advance to Wildflame and reforge my body in Essence once more? That was supposed to be a result of the last phase of the advancement.
¡°An injury like that?¡± Brealtod shook his head. ¡°Wizards cannot heal severed limbs or deep scars. They may fade, but never fully heal¡ªespecially once they¡¯ve affected your perception of your own form.¡±
Pirin chewed his bottom lip. ¡°Myraden¡¯s scars healed.¡±
¡°They were small, surface level.¡±
¡°This isn¡¯t?¡±
¡°An Unbound Lord did that to you. It will leave a lasting impression.¡±
Pirin exhaled and sighed. His lip trembled. He was going to be missing an eye? If anyone got on his left side, he¡¯d be at a serious disadvantage. Not to mention the awkward discomfort of just not being able to see.
He shut both his eyes, and it stung. It stung horribly, physically, but also deeper, like his Essence channels were protesting the movement as well.
It would take some getting used to, but he couldn¡¯t let this get in his way.
But he did need to rest.
~ ~ ~
Lord Three jumped through the mountains as far as he could, pushing off stone ledges and heaving himself through the air. He didn¡¯t have enough Essence to lift himself and fly after the elf¡¯s airship, and even jumping, he couldn¡¯t consistently travel faster than them.
But neither could he return to Lady Neria empty-handed.
No. The elf would be back. And Lord Three had to be ready to crush him once and for all.
He stopped on a shelf high up in the mountains, cycling to dissuade the cold, and folded his legs beneath himself, before shutting his eyes and drawing in the Eane. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
The encounter with Nomad had bled his centuries-old reserves of Essence dry, and he hadn¡¯t recovered from it yet. He likely wouldn¡¯t ever reach the same Essence levels, have a core so full, so saturated.
But if he wanted to last in a long battle against Nomad¡¯s apprentice, he¡¯d need to stock up.
~ ~ ~
The Featherflight sailed over Sirdia¡¯s west coast the next morning and flew out over the Adryss ocean. In a few days, they¡¯d reach Kerstel.
Pirin had been focussing on his revelations, but he hadn¡¯t made any significant progress. No resonance, nothing that sounded right. Just meditation, swirling around aimlessly, but without a proper target or an easy solution.
When there was no sign of the coast, and instead, an empty field of water rushed by beneath the Featherflight, Pirin searched for Nomad. The former wizard wasn¡¯t in the gondola or the crew quarters, now in the cargo hold with Gray.
Probably on the viewing platform, then. There wasn¡¯t much room to hide, and with the lookouts and soldiers disembarked¡ªthey¡¯d stayed with the rest of the army after Dremfell¡ªthere was no one else to get in the way.
Pirin climbed up to the observation platform and opened the hatch, and sure enough, Nomad sat cross-legged at the very front. A chilly autumn breeze washed around him, and as high as they were, snowflakes swirled down before melting on the sun-warm airship envelope or viewing platform.
Pirin was about to climb back down the ladder¡ªno need to interrupt an old man¡¯s meditation¡ªwhen Nomad said, ¡°Wait, Pirin.¡±
Pirin froze halfway through shutting the hatch, then pushed it open all the way. ¡°Yes?¡±
¡°You say that like I¡¯m the one asking for you, yet you came up here to talk to me, correct?¡±
¡°Well¡¡± Pirin pulled himself all the way up through the hatch and approached Nomad. The man held his raccoon-cat in his lap¡ªhis former Familiar¡ªand ran his hand through its thick fur. He wasn¡¯t meditating at all. Or, at least, not doing any of the things a wizard with a still-functional Essence system did.
¡°How did you know it was me?¡± Pirin asked. ¡°Is your magic returning? Or your spiritual senses, at least?¡±
Nomad snorted. ¡°You have a different cadence of footsteps, Pirin.¡±
¡°...Oh.¡±
¡°When you get older, you notice those sorts of things. Or simply when you begin looking for patterns, and have nothing else to rely on.¡±
¡°Are you¡dying?¡± Pirin asked. Nomad still only looked in his late thirties, maybe mid forties. But, being a wizard, he would¡¯ve been truly much older than he looked. ¡°You don¡¯t look like it.¡±
¡°Without my magic, my years are catching up to me. I reckon I¡¯ll only last a few more before I finally pass on.¡±
Pirin rubbed the side of his face. With the enhanced healing his body afforded him, the most gruesome of his scars hit over, and from a distance, no one should¡¯ve been able to tell his left eye wasn¡¯t functional. No one except himself. Up close, they¡¯d notice the single vertical scar and the misty eye, but he¡¯d rather not wear a patch.
¡°Nomad, sir?¡± Pirin asked. ¡°I¡¯ll need to fight on all angles, tackling all fronts. I can¡¯t do that with half my vision blocked.¡±
¡°Blocked?¡± Nomad shook his head. ¡°You must use your other senses.¡±
¡°Sound and¡touch? And smell? That can only go so far.¡± And even then, the harder Pirin tried to concentrate, the more his body wanted him to use his eye. He knew it was there, and he was supposed to see out it. But he couldn¡¯t. It gave him a headache if he concentrated too long, and sometimes, it was better to let everything fall blurry again.
¡°Your sixth sense. Your spiritual senses.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not good enough to see with¡¡± Pirin whispered.
¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re thinking of it purely as sight. You must sense how the Essence flows around you. You must look for the impressions all objects make in the Eane.¡± Nomad stood up, and his former Familiar climbed to his shoulder. ¡°You discovering your Reign so soon shows me you have an aptitude for feeling the Eane. You have deep roots, but you must use them. Blindfold yourself.¡±
¡°Pardon?¡±
¡°You heard me. Blindfold yourself. Don¡¯t rely on your eyes until we arrive at Kerstel. Navigate the ship with your senses.¡± Nomad tapped his foot on the platform, alerting Pirin to the location of his presence. But Pirin hadn¡¯t known precisely where he was until before then.
¡°But my senses work better at picking up danger, right?¡±
¡°No,¡± Nomad stated. ¡°That is what the Dominion teaches. They¡¯ll convince you to see everything around you as a threat, and that, in order to use your senses properly, you must perceive the entire world as a threat to your existence.¡±
¡°There¡¯s another way?¡±
¡°There¡¯s more than one base instinct, no? Danger is one, and can be helpful, but there¡¯s also love, joy, indignance, curiosity, ambition, and so on. You must rely on your instincts, trust your gut, and understand how your surroundings make you feel. You are a part of the world¡ªknow it, trust it, and cling on to it. Only then will you truly perceive your surroundings, and when you overcome this scar, you¡¯ll be more powerful than any other wizard around you. Or, at least, your senses will be.¡±
Pirin nodded, then said, ¡°I¡¯ll blindfold myself when I go down to the crew quarters. Now¡one more question.¡±
¡°Yes?¡±
¡°I need to reforge my sword. I can¡¯t face the Unbound without it.¡±
¡°And you can¡¯t reforge it without losing your Reign.¡±
¡°So¡either I get used to the stump of the sword, or glue it back together with a weaker steel and have it shatter upon first use?¡±
Nomad snorted. ¡°There¡¯s a third option. I grew up in a Seisse-Plainspar bordertown, at a boarding academy, and even in the shelter of a wealthy sector of the city, we had a tradition of preserving shattered dishware. We¡¯d use an ichor-clay grout and piece together shards of broken mugs. The grout was sturdier than the material of the dish itself, but moreover, with the ichor, they had the potential to become low-grade artifacts. The same effect could apply to your sword¡ªit was simply a mortal swordsman¡¯s, but it could become more. Problem is, we don¡¯t have any ichor.¡±
Pirin shook his head. ¡°Yes, we do.¡± He tapped his void pendant. ¡°But it was forged into steel to craft Lady Neria¡¯s control dagger.¡±
¡°You¡¯d use it?¡±
¡°I could turn something evil into something with purpose? Of course.¡±
Chapter 36: Blind Spot [Volume 4]
Pirin started by walking back and forth down the axial catwalk. He wrapped a length of envelope fabric from the cargo hold around his eyes and layered it tight enough that he could no longer see through it, then stuffed his hands in his pockets so he couldn¡¯t instinctively use them to feel his way around.
The first time he tried, he just walked down the catwalk, lifting his feet and resisting the instinct to drag his toes. He couldn¡¯t walk carefully, like he was trying to traverse an unfamiliar house in the dark. He needed to train himself to walk normally, even without any sight whatsoever.
But that meant he needed to understand his surroundings.
Gray was still in the cargo hold, still recovering and nursing her wing back to health, and Pirin couldn¡¯t use her sight to create an image of his surroundings. G?ttrur would be of no use; they couldn¡¯t share thoughts through a Reyad.
Only his sixth sense, his spiritual sense.
Nomad said it was about the feelings of his surroundings. But that was hard to do. The sense of a threat was almost ever-present, an innate element of life. That was probably why even the weakest people, those with no spiritual potential to their name, could still feel when someone was watching them, or get a premonition of doom in their stomach.
But the Featherflight wasn¡¯t a threat. It wasn¡¯t even alive.
But he was a part of the world, and so was it. They were interacting with it. They were interacting with the Eane, even if he couldn¡¯t see it.
He considered the walkways. They pressed up against his feet, stopping him from falling through. Sturdy, steady. The railings? They were useful. Not just as a handhold, but for tying up the ballonets¡¯ cinching ropes to. Usefulness was perceivable, and it was certainly something he could feel.
He knew the feeling of usefulness, or lack thereof, well enough.
He took a shaky step down the walkway, but nothing felt different. It was like taking a step in the dark.
Taking a deep breath, he began a steady, low cycling pattern. He drew in the raw energy of the world and pulled it in a slight, small loop that kept him active, kept him aware of the Eane around him, but didn¡¯t overwhelm his concentration.
But he traced the lines of energy backward with his perception. The same perception he used to envision his own channels, he pushed out along the routes of Eane trailing into his body.
It made an invisible mist in the air, but appeared golden in his blind perception. He traced the mist down to the walkway, and let it push against the sturdiness of the walkway. Following it with his mind, he then flooded his perception up to the handrails, envisioning their usefulness and the ropes tied to them.
Next step. Then the next.
He walked down the catwalk until the railing fell out of his perception.
The ladder down to the crew quarters. But he wasn¡¯t ready for that yet.
Instead, he followed the walkway to the front of the ship. A rope spanned haphazardly across the walkway, and he sensed it enough from the tension it put on the railing and the way it made the mist of the air swish around it.
It was like walking through a forest. Roots protruded from the ground, and if he wasn¡¯t careful, he¡¯d trip. But it took a single glance, or even just a glimpse in his periphery, to register where it was. Without consciously thinking about it, his mind created a model of his surroundings and deployed it expertly, telling his legs just where they needed to step to not trip himself.
Only this time, he was consciously creating the model.
He had to be getting close to the end of the walkway. He reached out with his senses and called for the gasbags. They weren¡¯t as sturdy as the catwalk. They were made of dried, leathered wyvern intestines, which held and contained lifting gas perfectly, but also were susceptible to rips, and if they tore, the ship would lose altitude.
And, Pirin had to admit, the thought of factory-farmed wyvern innards still made his stomach shudder a little, no matter how cleaned and cured they were.
But still, the gasbags erupted up the edges of the three-dimensional model he was creating in his mind, forming slightly flexible walls on either side of the walkway and arching overtop his head. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
At the end of the hallway, the gasbags constricted on the walkway, sloping upward to the nose cone of the ship.
Pirin stopped before he hit the end of the axial catwalk. Two¡two inches from ramming his face into the gasbag.
He reached out to check his work. Three inches.
For a first attempt, it was good. And he had three days to practice.
~ ~ ~
Myraden walked through the gates of her childhood home. The two blackened doors lay wide open, and they swayed in the breeze. The skeleton of an unfortunate houseservant laid right in front of the doors, bones picked clean, with only shreds of his original robe.
Myraden stepped into the foyer and turned in a slow circle. It was two storeys, with a staircase at the opposite end and a high, arched roof. Holes let sunlight and snowflakes trickle down to the cobblestone floor.
There used to be wooden pillars, banners, and rugs all throughout the hall, but those had either burned or been scavenged.
She knelt in the center of the hall, trying to resist the memories. Flashes of flame rolled through her mind. Her father had returned home only hours before the soldiers arrived, and he¡¯d instructed them to gather their things and make for the port. It was such a frenzy, and she¡¯d been tired and confused, but she¡¯d done what he said.
Myraden blinked, then cycled Essence, pushing the memories away. She took the stairs up to the second level of the manor and walked around the perimeter walkway of the foyer until she found her room.
In her childhood, it¡¯d seemed small. Only a bed, a dresser, a tiny, foot-wide square window. Maybe it was because the dresser had crumbled, then ever-ice window had been smashed, and the bed burned away, but seemed bigger.
Since she¡¯d left home, all she¡¯d ever known were cramped ships¡¯ holds or shared barracks. The only time she¡¯d lived in comparable luxury was when she¡¯d trained under the Red Hand at Pliath Castle.
Footsteps thudded behind her. The Red Hand stepped into the room as well. ¡°Have you come to any conclusions yet? Any breakthroughs?¡±
¡°Nothing. The Heart revelation is¡the why, right?¡±
¡°Correct.¡±
¡°But shouldn¡¯t that be the same as the spirit revelation?¡±
¡°No.¡± The Hand shook his head. ¡°What you want to achieve is different from why you want to achieve it.¡±
¡°But I only realized what I wanted when I thought of why I wanted it.¡±
¡°Then this revelation should be easy. Myraden, we are products of our past, and it informs our every decision in the present.¡± The Hand crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if it feels too easy, as long as it feels right.¡±
¡°By virtue of it feeling too easy, it feels wrong. Unnatural.¡±
¡°I understand. Nothing about magic should be easy, so neither should this. But you must trust yourself.¡±
¡°I will try,¡± she said. ¡°If you do not mind, I will try once more. Here.¡±
When the Hand didn¡¯t argue, she folded her legs beneath herself and sat cross-legged in the center of her old bedroom.
~ ~ ~
Pirin sensed Kerstel before any of the others saw it.
He didn¡¯t think he would. He didn¡¯t think his senses would reach so far, or that they¡¯d be strong enough to pick out an island. He didn¡¯t think he was trying to sense it.
But, at the very edge of his perception, many miles away, a stub of rock poked out from the waves. He sensed the difference in texture, the sheer presence of the island as it parted the waves, and only then did he realize that he¡¯d been sensing the waves far below the Featherflight as well.
It¡¯d been three days. For the past two, he¡¯d kept his blindfold on the whole time, navigating the ship only by touch and feel. Naturally, he had stubbed his toe plenty of times, not to mention bruises on his hips and thighs where he¡¯d accidentally walked into tables¡¯ corners or kicked the edge of a railing.
But today, he hadn¡¯t hit anything. He started on the upper platform, sensing the winds and wheeling seagulls above. The moment he registered Kerstel at the edge of his perception, he navigated down to the gondola, taking the ladder and envisioning every rung before he set his foot on it, then traversing the axial catwalk at a light jog before descending down to the crew quarters and gondola.
Without walking into a single object. If he reached out, his hand should¡¯ve been right above the navigation table.
It was exactly where he thought it was.
He pulled off his blindfold and grinned. It had worked.
¡°What¡¯s that smile for, elfy?¡± Alyus pestered.
¡°My senses are¡working a lot better now.¡± Pirin tucked his hands into his pocket. ¡°Not to mention, I¡¯m pretty much all healed up. Once we¡¯re back in Sirdia, I should be good as new. As long as nothing attacks me¡ª¡±
An impression of speed and pressure washed across Pirin¡¯s left side, and, without turning his blind-spot toward it, he raised his hand to his head and blocked with his forearm. A wooden crack rang out, along with a sudden thud against the new leather vambraces.
He glanced up, then over at Nomad, finally dragging the man out of his visual blind spot. ¡°You hit me.¡±
Nomad lifted his staff, then tucked it behind his back. ¡°In fact, you blocked it.¡±
¡°Did you know I would?¡±
¡°You seemed pretty confident you could.¡± Nomad paused, then said, ¡°And your confidence was warranted, I¡¯d say, seeing as you did block it. But your enemies don¡¯t know that. Lord Three thinks you have a blind spot, now. He doesn¡¯t know that your senses will cover it and nullify it. Use that to your advantage, as you always have.¡±
Chapter 37: Darekshore [Volume 4]
Kerstel came into view after a few more minutes.
It was a little larger than he¡¯d been expecting. The centre of the island was a vast, grassy plateau that, if he¡¯d recalled correctly, was a day¡¯s trek across. From one side to the other.
He didn¡¯t know how he knew, only that, with his use of the Memory Chain, he¡¯d absorbed the knowledge at some point.
He¡¯d absorbed a lot of information about Kerstel, though it struck him as foreign. This little island should¡¯ve seemed like home, but nothing about it seemed welcoming. The walls of Northvel, the glowing orange windows and smoke-chuffing chimneys, the frozen waterfall and icy rooftops¡ªthey were home, now.
But this was necessary for the revelations. This place still moulded him into who he was, even if he couldn¡¯t remember it.
Rocky cliffs rose up from a broad gravel beach, and spires of rock offshore broke the waves. Approaching from the northeast, there were no cities, but a few settlements stood up on the grassy plateau. Sheep munched at grass and weeds within the pastures, but outside, the plateau¡¯s knee-high grass and shrubs grew uncontrollably. There was no snow on the island yet, only a dreary, grey sky and a dull drizzle of rain and sea-mist.
¡°So, Elfy?¡± Alyus asked. ¡°You grow up in Daenovan, or some place else?¡±
Daenovan was Kerstel¡¯s biggest port, but it was on the southeast coast¡ªfacing toward Aerdia. It was natural to assume so, but it wasn¡¯t true.
¡°Best I know, as the Chain shows, I was born in Darekshore, up on the north coast,¡± Pirin replied.
¡°If they were going to hide him,¡± Nomad said, ¡°Daenovan would have been too obvious.¡±
¡°Hide me?¡± Pirin tilted his head.
¡°Well, you didn¡¯t exactly grow up in Sirdia, now, did you? They hid you away from the world, knowing you¡¯d be at risk, until you grew old enough to form a Reyad. And we see how that went.¡±
Pirin grimaced. ¡°Yeah.¡±
But something wasn¡¯t lining up. The Sundering, in which the old line died out. Then him, a supposed successor, who wasn¡¯t from that line at all. Yet he still had deep spiritual roots, and the Eane had marked him as nobility with black hair.
When he got ashore and had a moment to rest, he¡¯d use the Memory Chain. There had to be a clue, some kind of hint within to tell him what had happened.
¡°Never been to Darekshore,¡± said Alyus. ¡°Though I figure it¡¯s pretty tiny.¡±
¡°Look for a cove on the shore-cliff,¡± Pirin said. ¡°There¡¯ll probably be smoke seeping out of it, and if we¡¯re lucky, a little bit of light.¡±
It was midday, but the clouds above were thick, and barely any light seeped through to the shore. Besides, even in all his memories, Darekshore was always burning torches and candles and rushlights just to keep the place lit.
A strong wind pushed against the Featherflight¡¯s sails, guiding the airship up around the coast and over the choppy waves. Pirin and Brealtod climbed up to the axial catwalk to tighten the ballonets and bring them down. Once they had all the ballonets fastened as tight as they could, Pirin ran back to the gondola while Brealtod waited, at the ready in case he needed to expand them quickly and give them altitude.
¡°There!¡± Pirin exclaimed, pointing out the gondola¡¯s front window. To their left, the north shore of the island filled the horizon, now, and its curves and bays and juts all contributed to a winding coastline, and there were plenty of coves and tiny caves all along it. Rushing waves and crashing ice had pockmarked it into a gray sponge toffee.
A column of smoke rolled over the lip of one cove, steaming up into the sky and whisking away in the wind. Flickering torchlight spilled out onto the gravel shores, flagging down approaching guests.
¡°I see it,¡± Alyus said. ¡°We can¡¯t land on the coast. One shift in the wind, and we¡¯ll smash right into the cliff wall, or get blown out into one of those spires, and they¡¯ll puncture us like a waterskin.¡±
¡°The upper plateau is fine,¡± Pirin said. There were no major settlements up top¡ªnothing within sight¡ªand it was probably better that way. No need to scare the local villagers with an airship landing right on their coast, right in front of them. ¡°But watch out for the razorweed, and try to stay as high as you can. Don¡¯t need that slashing up the envelope too.¡±
¡°Will do,¡± said Alyus, then spun the rudder wheel. Pirin ran up beside him and gripped the elevator wheel, so Alyus could guide the ship with both hands, but Alyus said, ¡°Give me three spins down. Angle the elevators down, and we¡¯ll take a drop.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
¡°Understood.¡± Pirin spun the wheel as directed, and the ship obeyed. They descended to the upper plateau and settled down on the grass. The gondola crushed a pile of weeds with knife-blade fronds, and the bottom tail fin only hovered a few inches above the soil. They threw down mooring lines and stakes and tied the ship down as best they could, then dropped the sails.
¡°Unless you want to come with me,¡± Pirin told Alyus and Brealtod, ¡°you two can wait here. It¡might actually be better if you do.¡±
¡°Given this island is controlled by the Dominion,¡± Nomad added. ¡°If we need to make a quick escape, I reckon we¡¯ll need you two ready.¡±
¡° ¡®Course,¡± Alyus said. ¡°No need to visit some little fishing town.¡±
¡°Whaling town,¡± Pirin corrected him. ¡°Or, former whaling town. The big Dominion ships sailing the fishing lanes¡well, they kinda scared most of the lumawhales off, and the industry dried up.¡±
¡°Yet another point to tally,¡± Nomad said with an I-told-you-so cadence. ¡°It¡¯s a perfect place to hide someone.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll get us an answer.¡± Pirin looked directly at Nomad with his good eye. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me, right?¡±
¡°I think that¡¯d be prudent, if we¡¯re aiming to fulfill your next two revelations.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll advance as soon as I complete the next two revelations?¡± Pirin asked. He stepped out of the gondola and hopped into the knee-high grass, then trudged toward the stern and the now-permanently open cargo hold.
¡°Not necessarily,¡± Nomad continued. ¡°At the end, you¡¯ll need to trigger the Path revelation, which will consume all the Essence in your system and burn it into a new substance. An essential substance to Wildflame techniques¡ªa soul-pith, quintessence. Or, commonly, Essentia. It bolsters our techniques, linking us closer with our Familiar, and crossing that deep river between us. It enhances, turns more robust, and is closer to the Eane itself. In doing so, you¡¯ll craft the beginnings of an inner-world.¡±
Pirin ducked under the envelope of the airship and peered inside the stern cargo hold. Gray laid in her nest at the edge of the cargo platform, but upon seeing him, she hopped to her feet and jumped down to the grass.
So this is Kerstel, huh? she asked. She grabbed a clump of grass in her talons and pulled on it, severing it. We must¡¯ve gone farther south than I thought if there¡¯s no snow.
¡°The ocean currents wash around the island, bringing warmer weather with them,¡± said Pirin. ¡°Otherwise, Kerstel would be frozen over right now.¡±
They ran back out from beneath the airship, then stood side-by side with Nomad. Pirin turned to the older man and asked,¡°An inner-world? What¡¯s that?¡±
¡°Corespace, self-storage, it has many names. But it can be bent to a greater purpose later on. Though no wildflame of our generation has managed that, yet, it is a process of embodying a greater concept and using it to enhance your form. The runemark expands.¡±
¡°I think I encountered something like that. When I used the Whisper Hitch and¡well, ended up inside our souls.¡±
Nomad chuckled. ¡°A plane of white light?
¡°Yeah.¡±
¡°It¡¯s the base of your inner world, I¡¯ll give you that.¡±
¡°Can I store stuff in it, then?¡±
¡°Yes, but only with practice.¡±
¡°Would you teach me on the journey back?¡±
Nomad nodded. ¡°We can try.¡±
But for now, they couldn¡¯t spend too much time on Kerstel. There would be Dominion patrols along the upper plateau, hunting for rumrunners and any local scoundrels who didn¡¯t want to be found. Sooner than later, an airship would draw their attention.
Pirin led the way across the plateau, then paced back and forth until he uncovered a trail down the cliff face that he just knew was there. It was just an innate knowledge within his mind, reclaimed from the countless hours reviewing his training as a healer. Memories of Kerstel came flooding back as a by-product.
The trail wound down a slightly less steep face of the cliff. Gravel and mud made the path slippery, and he had to watch each step he took with great care. Nomad used his staff as a walking stick, and Gray just fluttered down from the top.
¡°Shoulda done that, too,¡± Pirin muttered to himself.
When they reached the gravel shore, they circle around toward the cove. A wooden boardwalk paved a steady route along the coast, before disappearing around the edge of the cove.
They followed the curve. Pirin led, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. The wall of the cove peeled away, revealing the village beyond. It tucked into the cove, sheltering from the wind. Hovels clung to the walls, and houses stood on stilts above a pool at the center of the cove. It was low tide, but the scrapped skeleton of an old whaling ship lay at the center of the pool. The villagers had stripped it clean of boards for their houses, leaving only a skeleton left.
Torches blazed, filling the air with smoke, and oil candles let off a savoury, meat-like smell. Rushlights poked out from buildings¡¯ walls or hung above the walkway.
Darekshore had no natural defenses, and it had never needed any, but a few Dominion soldiers stood guard on the walkway. They leaned against a stack of barrels, talking lazily amongst themselves. One was a man, the other a seafolk with bright red hair and fleshy gills. Both conscripts, or enlistees from faraway lands.
The man yawned, then pushed up and turned to face them. Pirin quickly pulled up his hood so they wouldn¡¯t see his hair.
¡°Good afternoon,¡± the man said. ¡°What brings you to Darekshore? I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯ll have many buyers for that gnatsnapper. The folks who used to fly them around here, those boys, they¡¯ve long since grown up and moved off.¡±
Pirin chuckled. ¡°Sorry, sir, we¡¯re just visiting. We came to see the local healer, Mr. Regos. Is he here?¡±
The guard raised his eyebrows, then said, ¡°Apologies. The old man passed on a season-cycle ago¡or something like that. They say he turned out to be a traitor to the Dominion.¡±
¡°And that apprentice of his disappeared soon after, too,¡± the seafolk soldier added.
¡°If you don¡¯t mind,¡± Pirin said, ¡°would you let me visit his house?¡±
Chapter 38: The Sundering [Volume 4]
¡°What for?¡± asked the soldier.
¡°Me and my servant here,¡± Pirin said, motioning to Nomad, ¡°are collecting antiquities for our clan. The Laner Clan.¡± It was a made-up name, but these soldiers wouldn¡¯t know that. Chances were, wherever they¡¯d come from, they weren¡¯t the most educated, and they joined the military for a stable pay. That was how most conscripts ended up in the Dominion army, at least.
Nomad added, ¡°We heard that there were some tomes on healing elixirs, which would be of great interest to us. Unless his hovel has been disturbed?¡±
The soldiers glanced at each other, and the man shrugged. ¡°We haven¡¯t disturbed it, sir. No one here has. No reason to; no new blood in this town for a while, and by and by, it soon won¡¯t exist at all. But I warn you, the villagers have been rather protective of it¡ªout of respect for the old healer, ¡®course.¡±
¡°He wasn¡¯t a wizard-healer, no,¡± the other soldier added. ¡°Not sure what you¡¯ll find that¡¯s of interest to a clan.¡±
¡°It¡¯s no worry,¡± Pirin said. ¡°We won¡¯t cause a ruckus.¡±
The soldiers both stepped back and leaned against the barrels, then again, muttered between themselves.
If they had any suspicions about Pirin and Nomad, they were clearly smart enough to not get themselves killed.
¡°Come on,¡± Pirin said, then walked off down the boardwalk. ¡°It should be one of the stilt houses along the edge of the walkway.¡±
¡°You remember which one?¡± Nomad whispered.
¡°How could I not?¡±
¡°I reckon I¡¯d not find my childhood home.¡±
¡°Yeah, well, you¡¯re old.¡± Pirin tucked his hands in his pockets and walked toward the back edge of the cove. Mr. Regos¡¯ hovel stood at the center of a cluster, but it was no bigger than any of the other houses. Cobbled-together walls, a tarp and thatch roof, as if rain would ever reach it. Seaglass windows would¡¯ve let in outside light and given the inhabitants a view of the sun at the very end of the day, but quilted curtains blocked them.
Not sure if I¡¯ll fit inside, Gray said.
¡°You can keep watch on the walkway.¡±
You don¡¯t need me to keep watch, she muttered. You¡¯d sense problems coming.
¡°You could too, when you train your spiritual senses,¡± Pirin said.
I¡¯m busy enough trying to figure out what you¡¯re saying with that Low Speech of yours!
Pirin rolled his eyes, but even then, his senses alerted him to a presence approaching from the side and staring right at him. It wasn¡¯t the only villager here, but it was certainly a villager¡ªthey all wore the same shade of tattered brown robes and furs with a light buckle, so they could easily throw it off if they fell in the water.
But this presence held a sharp¡spear? Fishing spear. The closer Pirin drew to Mr. Regos¡¯ hovel, the more the presence tightened his grip. It waited in a gap between the buildings, ready to spring out on a whim and attack.
Pirin walked along, pretending his didn¡¯t notice, then turned to the door of Mr. Regos¡¯ hovel. Though the villagers had left it untouched, that also meant they hadn¡¯t lit any of the torches outside its door.
The moment Pirin reached for the door, a voice snapped, ¡°Halt right there, vagrant, or I¡¯ll have you in the gut!¡±
Pirin didn¡¯t stop. He gripped the door handle and pushed it open.
The presence emerged from the darkness on Pirin¡¯s left side, and it jabbed a fishing spear at Pirin, but he leaned back and caught its haft, then crushed it with a clenched of his fingers.
His assailant was a well-built, tall man, about the same age as Pirin. A faint beard hung off his chin, and red hair fell down to his neck in stringy clumps.
¡°Tanillar,¡± Pirin said. He knew this man from his memories. A fisherman¡¯s son. They¡¯d played together, they¡¯d flown gnatsnappers together, they¡¯d watched Smokes together. ¡°I mean the hovel no harm.¡±
¡°That voice¡¡± Tanillar breathed. ¡°Pirin?¡±
Pirin pulled back his hood slightly¡ªjust enough that Tanillar could see his face¡ªthen pulled it back over his head.
¡°By the Eane, I nearly skewered you!¡±
¡°No you didn¡¯t,¡± Pirin said. ¡°But it was a valiant effort.¡±
¡°What are you doing¡sneaking about? What are you doing back here?¡±
¡°I can¡¯t stay for long,¡± Pirin said. ¡°But I just needed to visit the hovel. Would you keep watch for me?¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!
¡°Of course¡but, Pirin¡how¡¯d you do that?¡± Tanillar looked down at the shattered stump of his spear. ¡°Are you a wizard?¡±
¡°Of sorts.¡± Pirin tilted his head toward Gray. ¡°She¡¯s my Familiar. You can keep watch outside the hovel with her.¡±
¡°I¡ª¡± Tanilar scrunched his eyebrows. ¡°A gnatsnapper? Impossible. You can¡¯t form a Reyad with them.¡±
Gray chirped, then, inside Pirin¡¯s head, said, Can I show him?
¡°We don¡¯t need to cause a scene, Gray,¡± Pirin whispered back.
Gray hung her head.
¡°I mean, gnatsnappers are Eane-forsaken!¡± Tanillar exclaimed. ¡°You couldn¡¯t form a Reyad with it if you tried.¡±
¡°You can when you put a wraith core in them,¡± Pirin said. ¡°It¡¯s¡a long story. But hey, if you want to talk to her¡say, if she chirps once, it means yes, and twice, it means no.¡± Pirin pushed open the door to the hovel, then cast Tanillar a grin before ducking inside the old healer¡¯s hovel. Nomad followed close behind, then pulled the door shut.
Pirin walked to the windows and pushed the curtains open, letting in a trickle outside light. Dust swirled in every breath he took and coated every surface of the room in a thick layer of grey snow.
There was a table in the center of the room with a disorderly heap of books and papers on it, and an inkwell that¡¯d been left open. The ink had long since dried inside it, trapping the quill like a boat in ice. Hammocks hung across every corner of the room, for Pirin to sleep in and for Mr. Regos¡¯ and his patients.
Along every wall were shelves of regular healing herbs, glass vials of salves, and old misty remedies that¡¯d probably long since lost any potency.
If he¡¯d been hoping for arcane resources, he¡¯d have been sorely disappointed.
This had been home, but the dust made everything look a shade lighter. It didn¡¯t feel like his anymore.
Nomad approached the table and lit a candle, then leaned on it. ¡°Your first task is to use the Memory Chain. Seek your past, and understand how you came to be. You won¡¯t find your revelations until you understand truly who you are.¡±
Pirin folded his legs beneath himself and sat on the floor, careful not to disturb any more dust than necessary.
He¡¯d waited long enough.
Pouring Essence into the Memory Chain, he dragged his mind back through time.
First, he needed to see what happened to the old kings. What caused them to die off. He targeted a time before his own life, and pushed enough Essence through the Memory Chain to drive him backward in time.
His life rewound, and he passed through thousands of memories, thousands of hours, until everything fell blank¡ªto a time before he was born.
It didn¡¯t jump to his parents. Nothing.
For nearly twenty years, there was nothing. The chain was empty. Usually, he pushed past it, moving the chain so quickly he didn¡¯t notice.
So no one had possessed the bloodline for a few decades before Pirin. That shouldn¡¯t have been possible. He posed the same thought to Nomad.
¡°Bloodline power is stored in your core as a fraction of your forebears¡¯ Essence, for you to continue to cultivate,¡± Nomad explained. ¡°It causes subtle mutations within your body and spiritual system.¡±
¡°So¡the line wasn¡¯t broken? Who am I?¡±
Nomad shrugged uncertainly.
¡°Fine,¡± Pirin muttered. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll look back.¡±
He pushed to the brink of the empty segment of the Memory Chain, playing time backward until he arrived at the last glimpse of the previous king¡¯s life.
Mransil III lay on a bed in an airy bedchamber. It was the middle of the night, and there wasn¡¯t even a candle blazing.
His spirit cried out in pain and discomfort. Every breath was agony. His channels weren¡¯t just twisted; shards of glass flowed through them.
It was the price he paid for rushing to Wildflame with a weak foundation¡ªonly three Timbers¡ªand without reaching the correct revelations. They were weak and uninsightful. Instead, he¡¯d just used elixirs and wild-treasures to push himself closer to the brink, then forced an advancement.
Only a king for a few years, and no heir with significant spiritual potential.
After his death, he knew his kingdom would collapse. Khirdia would be no more. The bloodline talent of the elves would die with him.
Pirin pushed the Chain harder. Why had Mransil III rushed to advance?
A few years earlier. On the deathbed of Mransil II, forty years ago, the ancient Wildflame grasped his son¡¯s hand. Mransil III, only a Flare at the time, looked his father in the eyes. ¡°Father, we received word this morning. The Dominion has conquered Pherodotes. The entire Mainland is theirs, and they¡¯ll be coming for us next. I need your counsel.¡±
The old wizard-king only rasped and spoke in nonsensical gibberish.
¡°A curse has fallen on this land, father. We¡¯ve had no new wizards in years, and my sons and daughters have no spiritual potential. Their hair runs black like the heavens have doused them in ink; they are cursed. The Memory Chain has not passed to them. None can sense it.¡±
Again, the wizard-king said nothing of meaning.
¡°Our throne is withering. This land is dying. Soon, the riots will begin. They look to us to protect them, but I¡¯m not strong enough¡¡±
Pirin pulled his mind back to the present and dispelled the vision. He glanced at Nomad. ¡°The elven wizard-kings didn¡¯t always have black hair.¡±
¡°No, they did not.¡± Nomad snorted. ¡°That was your biggest take-away?¡±
¡°They lost their magic. How¡¯d the curse come to settle on the Elven Continent?¡±
¡°A curse may not be the best term. Their bloodline died, faded away, and with it, the tree they nurtured also faded. This land has always been barren, the Eane poorly responsive. But the throne tree acted as a node, projecting its power across the land making it normal. As long as elves lived here, it has lived. They¡¯d shared power with it, and it had accepted their power back.¡±
¡°So we make the tree bloom, we dispel the curse. Still doesn¡¯t explain why the king¡¯s heirs had no magic.¡±
¡°An aging king whose mind was fading, a son nowhere near the power of a Wildflame. They couldn¡¯t feed the tree, and the tree couldn¡¯t feed them. Bad timing, perhaps.¡±
Pirin nodded. ¡°After his death, the nation split, then?¡±
¡°There was a rumour his heirs had survived the chaos. No one knew where they went, or if they¡¯d even survived, but the Sirdians fled north, believing that if a king was to return, they¡¯d welcome him home with open arms and restore the kingdom. The Aerdians supported Tarliom, as you know, who promised them riches and led them to ruin.¡±
¡°But then there¡¯s still the problem of me, and where I fit into it all.¡±
¡°Indeed. I suggest using the Chain again, but focus on why you exist. It may provide you insight for your next two revelations.¡±